


there's something wrong with this world, i feel it coming on

by unsaved_misc



Category: Video Blogging RPF, supermega
Genre: Anxiety, Asthma, Blood, Body Horror, Cigarettes, Claustrophobia, Clones, Cockroaches, Crying, Depression, Found Family?, HEAVILY based off of channel zero: no end house, Hair Pulling, Horror, Hugs, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, Needles, New Friendships, Nightmares, OCD, Past Abuse, Spiders, Starvation, Trauma, Vomit, animatronics (but its not what u think), but not the sexy kind, cannibals, carson is a weenie, guns?, like its a no end house au, mannequins, n then this will start to make more sense, well sort of...in a sense, y'all should watch channel zero: no end house bc its very good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:02:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsaved_misc/pseuds/unsaved_misc
Summary: matt is in college with his best friends, ryan, harrison, jackson, and carson. he's struggling to find a place in his drab world and sometimes it feels like the weight of it is crashing on his shoulders. he hears of a place called the no-end house, with 6 rooms, each scarier than the last, and he feels like he should go to try and have some fun. however, he doesn't realize how dangerous this place can truly be.the home that feeds on you.
Relationships: Ryan Magee/Matt Watson
Comments: 26
Kudos: 22





	1. i don't feel anything at all (morning, red like wine)

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD AAAAAA i am so excited to share this with u guys!!! i have been working on this au for a few months and i decided to turn it into a full length fic :)) i hope u enjoy this first, short chapter!

justin felt himself slipping again, the tip of his sneaker catching on a crack in the asphalt for the second time as he ran. screw those assholes that never got around to repaving these roads. he spun a little, almost twisting his ankle in the process, and he righted himself again, taking off down the street. he glanced down at his feet and then back up at his goal: the fence. if he could get to the fence, he might get away for now. they were fast, but justin was faster, skinnier and more nimble. there’d been quite a few times when he’d have to duck under a sweeping arm or dodge through a few people, and he’d always been successful. or, at least, lucky. justin didn’t have much luck left, but he prayed that he’d be okay this time. he was getting closer, sneakers pounding against the asphalt and backpack almost swinging off his shoulders. justin could hear them coming right behind him, their voices shrill and unwavering as they ran. countless, identical suburban houses flew past his peripheral as he got closer and closer to that godforsaken fence, metal and rusted in all its glory. justin could feel his lungs burning and he couldn’t even remember how long he’d been running for, down all these twisted roads that seemed to merge together into some beige, residential maze. 

eyes on the exact place he was going to grab, justin reached out a hand and took hold of the chainlink, trembling fingers squeezing tight as he planted a foot into the lower holes. he could hear the thundering footsteps of his attackers close behind, and he hurriedly took off his pack and threw it over the fence and into the plush grass of the field. justin was losing time but he could make it, clambering quickly up the grey metal-  
a hand reached out, pulling on the fabric of his shirt and yanking hard.  
“no!” justin screamed out, losing his grip on the fence and falling hard onto his back. despite the short distance between the fence and the ground, he felt the wind knock out of his lungs, gasping for air as he scrambled on the asphalt.  
“aww, don’t be difficult now.” a voice said from above him, and he felt his stomach plunge at the familiar scent of lavender perfume. he felt someone yanking him up, grabbing the neck of his hoodie and pulling him along.  
“no, no no, stop-” justin protested, attempting to find purchase on the ground beneath him and failing.  
“that was bad of you, running away like that. we were so scared that we lost you.” another voice spoke, and justin felt like he was about to throw up.  
“pl-please don’t-”  
“enough talking. we just want you to remember where you belong.” the first voice spoke, and they stopped dragging him but held onto him firmly. justin struggled to slip away, kicking and pulling away from the man holding him, but he felt cold fingers grasping tightly onto his arm. they felt like fingers of a corpse.  
“hold still, justin.” the woman spoke as clammy fingers dug into his scalp, and justin felt it happening again. he screamed, desperate to get away, but the blue light was calming and soft, calling out to him. he felt his eyes close, and everything was azure again.


	2. as vivid as it truly is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> matt let out an internal sigh of relief, grabbing the ponytail holder on his wrist and snapping it against his skin. a common habit that reminded matt he was being stupid for thinking shit like this was actually real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAYYY NEW CHAPTER!!! i was super excited to write this one n im even more excited to write the next :))

matt wakes up feeling like he can’t breathe for the third time that week. he hates that he’s used to that shrill, wheezing sound that comes from his throat and lungs, the air struggling to get through. his eyes are still half-shut with drowsiness when he panics, hand scrambling across the nightstand and knocking things over until his fingers close around his inhaler. he brings it up to his lips, pressing down and taking in a breath, and his lungs feel clear again almost instantly. matt hates depending on a stupid piece of plastic, heaving in deep breaths as he stares angrily down at the device.

“fuckin’ nightmare.” he says shakily, tossing the inhaler and watching it land softly on the plush of his comforter. it’s grey, drab. he should look for a new one soon. matt glances down at the alarm clock, which had landed on the ground after his morning panic attack, and he picks it up to reveal 10:20 am. too early to be awake, for him at least, but he doesn’t want to risk trying to fall asleep again. those stupid nightmares. he has them all the time because of his meds, or maybe just because god hates him, but they leave him in cold sweats at 3 am or asthma attacks like these. last night was fucking weird, too. 

_ matt’s lying on his back, staring up at the yellowed popcorn-patterned ceiling. he can see moonlight peeking in through his open window, crawling across the walls, but it looks wrong. artificial. the shadows of the room feel wrong, too, and he can feel his chest tightening as his breathing picks up. he strains, but he can’t move his body, fingers grasping at the sheets and gripping hard. why can’t he move? he attempts to kick out a foot but only manages to move his bare toe against the bedsheet. his arms feel like they’re made of lead, a heavy force pressing down on his chest, and his lungs feel like they’re fucking collapsing.  _

_ the sound of a drawer opening. matt snaps to attention, wide blue eyes peering around the room. he can see his dresser in front of him, pale and wooden, the top left drawer opened by some unseen force. if a robber had come in, matt would have seen them right? and why would they open one drawer and leave? and why would they come in if matt was home? matt struggled to move his head, but he could only tilt it a few inches forward, eyes straining to see what was there. something was moving. he heard the brush of something against cloth, like someone was digging through his drawer, but he couldn’t see anything. matt attempted to speak, but he couldn’t manage, the words caught in his throat. he saw it, then. something was climbing out of his dresser drawer. a head. it’s skin was pale, almost white, and hanging off of it’s face like wet cloths, the eyes black and beady. dark, long hair covered it’s face, greasy and unkempt, and matt watched it slither over the drawer and into the air, the smell of wet flesh and mildew suddenly present in the room. it’s neck was imperceptibly long, stretching endlessly out of the clothes, and the face was getting closer and closer and- _

matt shivered, goosebumps peppering his bare arms. he wished he could be like ryan, who either never dreamed or just didn’t remember his dreams in the morning. matt was bothered by them for days, at times, the image of whatever attacked him in the night stuck in his head on repeat. it made him obsess, and with the obsessions came the compulsions to fix shit. how do you fix a head coming out of your dresser drawer? matt stared at it, squinting as if the head would come out again. tossing his comforter and bedsheets aside, bare feet hitting the carpeted floor, he stomped over to the dresser and whipped open the drawer as fast as he could. nothing but socks. matt let out an internal sigh of relief, grabbing the ponytail holder on his wrist and snapping it against his skin. a common habit that reminded matt he was being stupid for thinking shit like this was actually real. he grabbed a pair of white socks and closed the drawer with his elbow, throwing the pair on his bed as he stalked over to the closet. as he searched for a shirt to wear, deciding on a bright red sweatshirt in the end, he thought about the head again. it was so specific, so volatile, he wondered how his brain had even come up with it. matt remembered reading somewhere that everything you dream of, every face, is something you’ve seen in your real life. the thought made him shudder, slipping on his sweater and making sure to roll up the sleeves. he grabbed a pair of jeans, sliding his slender legs through and buttoning them. 

‘ _ so you’ve seen that face before. _ ’ matt’s inner thoughts hissed at him like some taunting bully, and he rolled his eyes, sitting down on the bed to slip on his socks. 

“it was just a dream. it was a dream about a head that came out of my dresser, but i probably saw it on twitter or something so it doesn’t  _ matter _ . just shut up for a second.” matt said aloud, and that seemed to quell his thoughts for now. he felt a buzzing sensation, and turned around to see his phone screen had lit up. good. a distraction. he slid unlock, tapping in his passcode, and saw a text from harry. his lips lifted a little in a smile.

**harry: breakfast?**

**harry: m already driving so answer fast lmao**

**matt: ofc**

**matt: ill be waiting mr chofeur**

**matt: *chauffeur sorry**

matt sighed, grabbing his inhaler and stuffing it in his pocket. he grabbed the essentials (credit card, keys on a katamari damacy lanyard, a packet of gum, and his glasses, which were also knocked on the floor) and made his way into his kitchen, which wasn’t in the best shape. there were still dishes to wash, piled in the sink, and he was pretty sure his bananas were on the verge of too gross to eat. he brushed his teeth in the sink, staring out his window and trying to ignore the remnants of his nightmare lurking in the back of his brain. matt yanked on his bracelet again as he spit out toothpaste, gurgling water in a half empty water bottle. next was the fun part. consulting the miniature drug store that was his window sill, he grabbed the small, orange bottles and emptied one pill out of each. prozac for anxiety. zoloft for ocd. nexium for acid reflux, which wasn’t a huge necessity, but it kept thoughts of vomiting away, and that was preferable. matt took each pill one at a time, three sips of water each, and he rubbed at his drowsy eyes when the grueling process was finally over. finishing up the water bottle, matt grabbed his things and left his small apartment. nothing in there was very significant, really, and matt never put much thought into decorating. that was what jackson, harry, and carson were good at. carson covered his walls in his own prints, harry sprinkled potted plants in every window sill and corner of the place, and jackson always set up little knick knacks he’d found at thrift stores. matt’s personal favorite was the small figurine of a wise owl, placed neatly on the tucker brothers’ coffee table.

speaking of tuckers, matt was pleased to see harry already waiting outside of his apartment building, grinning at him from inside his 1957 ford thunderbird. the car was given to him by his father, and there was a phase in harry’s teenage years where he spent every second researching how to work on cars. harry blushed whenever it was brought up. 

“hey, hot stuff.” harry greeted, watching as matt slipped inside and shut the door gently behind him. matt snorted, adjusting his glasses before he clicked his seatbelt.

“yeah, sure. maybe when california has it’s next heat wave.” matt scoffed, and harry just laughed, shifting into drive and beginning to cruise along the road. matt turned to look at his side profile while he drove, how dark his lashes were and how his tongue stuck out slightly between his lips as he concentrated.

“you okay? you look tired as fuck.” harry asked, and matt flushed, remembering how his dark circles looked. 

“yeah, kinda. nightmares as usual.” he fidgeted with a hangnail on the side of his index finger, feeling like a kid. harry nodded, however, understanding.

“jeez, again? you should probably talk to your psychiatrist, see if you can get on meds that let you sleep better.” harry commented, slowing in the morning traffic. “i worry about you, y’know?” he glanced at matt and matt nodded, scratching at the base of his neck.

“i know. i’ll talk to her.” matt kept putting it off, and for what reason, he didn’t know. it was like he enjoyed his suffering, even though he knew he actually  _ didn’t _ . the face from the dream comes back, and he snaps his wrist again. matt hopes this won’t be an all day affair, and he looks up at the busy road as harry drives. after a beat in their conversation, harry picks up again.

“i thought about going to the bar tonight. you, me, jackson, carson, ryan. we can try and figure out something fun.” his eyes flick to matt again, and matt nods, the idea sounding appealing. it gets him away from his thoughts, and if he’s lucky, he’ll get too drunk to think or be preoccupied until 3 am. 

“sounds good to me. i need distractions.” matt admits, and harry nods, sympathetic. harry was always on the perfect, neutral ground, not giving too much pity and offering just the right advice. matt knows he can trust all of his friends when he needs to vent, but harry always feels like the correct choice. but, he doesn’t feel like talking about the nightmare just yet. he wants to enjoy this moment of safety without ruining it. matt rolls down his window a tad, feeling the breeze from outside brush against his face and run through his hair. mornings aren’t so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u enjoyed!! tell me what u thought :D i dont have a consistent upload schedule yet and i probably wont ever have one lmao but ill try to take short breaks every now and then ! thank u for reading if u did :))


	3. cool blue reason comes into your world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it was meticulous and endearing, and matt felt his ears burning pale pink when harry caught him staring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi !!! this chapter was more of a filler before the scary stuff really starts in chapter 4, but i liked writing a little bit about each character :D i hope u enjoy it!

matt still has the taste of vanilla latte in his mouth by the time he gets back to harry’s house around 4 o’clock, the day slipping away from them as the sky starts to grow golden yellow and orange. the day was busy, sunny, spent poring over vinyls at the record shop and accompanying harry while he book-shops even though matt doesn’t read. it’s an excuse to spend more time with harry, though, and he gets to watch him in one of his most comfortable spaces. examining the first few pages to see if he likes the style of writing, sniffing the pages for that familiar paper smell, studying the cover and spine. it was meticulous and endearing, and matt felt his ears burning pale pink when harry caught him staring. the engine of harry’s car grumbles in place when he pulls into the driveway, turning the key in the ignition and pulling it out. matt spots the little skeleton keychain he gave harry hanging off of the key ring, swinging gently and clinking against the keys. it makes him smile knowing that harry bothered to even keep it. 

“thanks for going with me today.” harry says with a grin, and matt notices his eyes crinkle when he smiles. he’d never seen it before, considering that harry usually wears glasses. matt nods, hands messing with the hem of his sweater while he talks.

“no problem. i like hanging out with you, dude. i never have much going on, anyway.” he chuckles, and harry laughs too. 

“whenever you wanna do stuff, just text me, matt. you don’t have to be alone all the time.” harry touches at matt’s arm when he says that, and matt feels the back of his neck flush. harry can be so tender sometimes, staring at matt with this genuine look of appreciation and love in his eyes, and matt is terrified of it because he doesn’t want harry to see underneath his exterior. he’s supposed to be goofy and loud and he’s supposed to make people laugh. he shouldn’t be the scared, anxious one that is so overwhelmed by his own feelings that he cries way too often. but matt just beams back at them, and harry’s hand pulls away as he goes to open his car door. matt hopes harry didn’t see him blushing and he sighs, opening the passenger door and climbing out. the front lawn of the tucker brothers’ house is freshly manicured, grass mowed and yard edged. harry did most of the gardening and lawn work, purely because he liked when things were neat. matt spied a lawn gnome peeing in one of the bushes, and assumed jackson or carson had put it there.

“ryan should probably be here. him and jackson went to the pet store today i think.” harry spoke up, sifting through his keys as they walked up the drive, matt’s sneakers scuffing behind harry’s. 

“oh, sweet. i haven’t seen him in a bit.” matt replied, and he felt a small surge of excitement knowing he’d be with all of his friends again. they hung out almost all the time, of course, but matt couldn’t help but feel like it was the first time every single time. he fidgeted with the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater, the urge to cover his hands itching at his brain. 

“i think he was...i don’t know. bad place.” harry says quietly, and matt nods, brow furrowed. ryan had called him one night recently, matt still sweaty and shaking from the nightmare he’d had ten minutes before, and he could tell ryan was in tears. he’d go through phases, feeling sociable and okay, but then completely draining and hiding away in his apartment. the only person he’d want to see was matt, and matt was always there for him. they were good for each other in that way, being a kind of makeshift therapist for each other when they couldn’t afford a real one. ryan was on the tip of the iceberg at the moment, starting to break out of a bad phase, and matt intended to help him through tonight. 

“he told me things weren’t going too great. hopefully we can cheer him up tonight.” matt suggested, and harry nodded with a small smile. they finally arrived at the front door and harry unlocked it, opening it gently and announcing their presence to the house.

“daddy’s home!” harry exclaimed, and matt snorted, slipping off his shoes to step on the clean hardwood. he always loved the energy and aura of the house. walls littered with artwork but not too cluttered, potted plants dotting the coffee tables, a large rug of interlocking patterns spread across the floor. an afghan blanket was draped across the couch, where jackson and ryan sat together. jackson, who was cradling a tiki drink in hand, long hair curled around his shoulders, smiled at the arrival of his brother and best friend. ryan smiled too, but shyly, hair tucked up under a beanie and draped in a peach pit t-shirt. he looked at matt directly, and matt grinned.

“the boys are back!” jackson cheered, standing to greet them as they arrived. when jackson hugged him, matt could smell the familiar scent of orange essential oils, which the man believed in religiously. matt got headaches from the smell, but it always made him think of jackson, at least. ryan stood as well, navigating to matt’s side.

“did you guys have fun today?” jackson asked, and harry nodded.

“we went to that little cafe in pasadena. the one with the cat?” harry said, setting down his bag on the coffee table, and jackson’s face lit up.

“oh, i love that place!” he commented, recognition in his eyes. “i go there all the time. mainly for the cat.” 

“and that one time you brought a girl and she ditched you for  _ that  _ specific cat.” harry chuckled, and jackson flushed as matt and ryan laughed. 

“hey! we weren’t compatible anyway. she didn’t care about mixology.” jackson pretended to frown, but his laugh was bubbling up underneath. as he bantered with his brother, matt turned to ryan, who was looking at his shoes.

“hey.” matt nudged him, and ryan’s eyes shifted up to his face. 

“hey.” ryan repeated back. matt studied his face, noticing the dark circles that matched his own. ryan was looking much better than before, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. matt would guide him.

“you went to the pet shop right?” matt asked, eyeing ryan’s face for anything specific. ryan nodded, a small smile lingering on his face.

“yeah. made me think about getting a fish tank again, honestly. i feel like it’d make me feel better, y’know, having something to keep me busy. fish are sweet.” ryan stared at harry and jackson as he talked, shifting his weight as he did so. matt nodded, thinking about the many late nights ryan had spent talking about fish and all of the research he’d done, debating whether or not to get neon tetras or tiger barbs.

“fish seem perfect for you, ryan.” matt said with a smile, and ryan flushed when he looked at him.

“i thought so too. i just...i don’t know. ‘m trying to feel better again.” ryan fiddled with his hands and matt put a hand around his shoulder, leaning closer to him.

“you’re doing good, ryan. the fact that you went out today with jackson is progress. i’m proud of you.” matt assured him, squeezing his shoulder. ryan smiled, shy, looking up at matt with that familiar adoration.

“we’re gonna have a good night tonight, ryan. i promise.” matt  _ meant  _ it, looking into ryan’s eyes with that look he gave when he wanted ryan to really know he was there for him, that he’d always be ryan’s rock. ryan gives him the same look, eyes dark and full of meaning, but all he does is just nod and reply, “yeah. we will.” matt lets go but slips his hand into ryan’s own like a reflex, and turns his attention back to jackson and harry. he feels ryan squeeze.

“where’s carson?” jackson mentions casually, and as if it was a tv show with just the right timing, carson slips in through the front door. everyone turned to look at him, stopping the boy in his tracks as he shuts the door behind him.

“i guess you guys must be really excited to see me.” carson joked, a small smile on his face as he set his skateboard gingerly against the wall. he was clad in an oversized hoodie and jean jacket, the hood pulled up around his face and making his hair stick out at odd angles.

“certainly. you’re the only one we’re waiting on.” harry said with a roll of his eyes, and carson gave a middle finger back, sticking out his tongue.

“we’re going to the bar. you coming?” matt asked, and carson nodded, passing the four as he walked toward his bedroom, the conflicting scent of cigarettes and vanilla lingering on his clothes.

“yeah, yeah, sure.” he hurried off, and harry called after him, “don’t spend all day powdering your nose, we’re on a time crunch!”

🜄

they’d arrived at  _ the sweet serpent _ , a strange name for a bar that had a parrot inside and no snakes, 20 minutes later, where the scene was not too crowded. matt had only been here a couple of times, but he still felt like there was so much he hadn’t even looked at. it was the type of bar that had character, weathered but full of life and a crowd favorite. the turquoise walls were littered with art and photographs of previous patrons or owners, and there were tons of knick knacks and antiques around the place. once they’d arrived, carson immediately made a b-line for a certain collection of art on the wall, pulling out his phone to take pictures, while jackson waved hello to the parrot. they all took a seat at the bar, rips on the stools popping out with fluff, and matt felt harry’s knee bump his under the table. he tried to ignore it.

“jackson, pick for me.” ryan nudged him, and jackson thought for a while before replying, “a mai tai.” matt got a long island iced tea, harry got a pina colada, carson got a rum and coke, and jackson got something fruity and complicated that the bartender didn’t seem enthused to make. the drinks were good, though, and the boys went back into lighthearted conversation.

“what do you think we should do after this?” matt asked, taking a sip of his drink. harry considered, swirling his drink in hand.

“we could see if any bands are live, maybe?” jackson suggested, and there were muted nods among the group.

“maybe we could see a movie?” ryan wondered, and matt felt that urge to hold his hand again, unexplainable.

“we could take a pottery class.” carson mumbled, and harry pushed him lightly, earning a ‘what?’ in reply.

“have you guys heard about the new haunted house in town?” an unfamiliar voice spoke, and all five heads turned to look up at the bartender. she was cleaning glasses with a rag, blonde hair cut into a mullet that stuck out in spiky ends against her shoulders. she looked down at them with raised eyebrows.

“what?” 

“the no end house. you haven’t heard of it? you ‘indie boys’ seem like the type.” her statement had air quotes even if she wasn’t actually making them. matt felt like she was making fun of them, but he liked her anyway.

“where is it?” matt asked, curious. he was never one for haunted houses, but he felt like he needed the adrenaline. the bartender set down the glass and picked up another one, her movements rhythmic and practiced.

“medford road. it’ll stick out if you see it. completely blue, almost black. the windows, walls, shutters, everything. weirdest shit ever, i thought it was an art piece or something.” matt was intrigued now. even if they didn’t go inside, he’d still want to see the place. he seemed to be taking the lead so he continued with his conversation, curious.

“so you’ve seen it, then.” he said with another sip of his tea, cocking his head slightly. the bartender nodded, her lips curling up in a smile. 

“mm hm. creepy fucking shit, man.” she looked down the bar, not many patrons attending or needing a refill, and looked back at the boys. she leaned forward on her elbows, playing with a small tiki umbrella from behind the bar.

“i heard that it has six rooms, each scarier than the last, and a lot of people don’t even make it through the whole thing. i’m not even trying to play it up, either. i’ve had friends go inside and tell me how weird it was, how it was different for everyone who goes in.” matt can tell that she likes theatrics, the way she pauses between every few words, but he has a feeling she’s telling the truth. he feels like he can trust her. 

“that sounds fucking awesome.” carson says, his eyes practically sparkling. harry, jackson, and ryan nod, and matt knows his plans for tonight. 

  
  


“do you want to come with us?” matt asks, feeling brave, and his hope drops when he sees the bartender shake her head.

“can’t. i work late tonight. and, even if i could, that place feels off to me. i’m not into it.” she straightens, going back to cleaning her glasses again. “i think other people could enjoy it, but not me.” matt finishes off his glass, pushing it forward, and he glances at his friends.

“should we do it?” he asks, and everyone nods, carson the most eager. they thank the bartender for the drinks, finishing them off as they stand, and matt says one more thing.

“i didn’t catch your name.” he speaks up, and the girl smiles, cocking her head like he’d done before.

“annabel. i’ll always be here.” she points to the bar, scrubby and chipped.

“matt.” he replies, and they share a look before he leaves into the chilly night.


	4. suddenly discover signs of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> indeed, the line was moving, and with a sigh, matt realized they were up next. had they really been talking for so long? didn’t the house have to have a limit of how many people entered? matt just shook his head and linked hands with his friends, climbing up the porch steps and walking through the dark entrance, his heart thumping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this took me so long!! i wanted to take a small break after the last chapter and collect my thoughts so i could make this extra scary >:) i hope it spooks you! please enjoy~

it doesn’t take long for them to arrive, the windows rolled down slightly to let a warm breeze roll through the car, and matt is admittedly nervous. of course, matt is always nervous for pretty much any event in his life, but he didn’t expect to be genuinely anxious about a haunted house. yeah, there’d be scares, but they’d probably be cheap and none of it was actually  _ real.  _ annabel was talking it up, probably just to get them out of her bar. matt still couldn’t tell if she liked him or was making fun of him. 

“you excited?” jackson asked him, nudging his arm and shaking him out of his thoughts. matt nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide how they shook. he hoped jackson hadn’t noticed and he wasn’t just talking to him to baby him.

“yeah! yeah. i haven’t felt adrenaline in, like, two years. i need this.” it was a half-truth, to be fair. matt probably  _ did  _ need this, seeing as he hadn’t really done anything fulfilling or productive, and he wasn’t really heading toward any specific goals. matt felt stuck. he didn’t know what he wanted, where he wanted to go, what his purpose in life was, and it was difficult for him to even get out of bed in the morning. maybe a few jumpscares and some clinging onto his friends arms as he shrieked would serve him well. jackson’s hand tapped at his arm, comforting, and matt smiled. jackson always had this sort of calming energy, this bright light in his personality and actions that made matt feel light on his feet. being around him was refreshing, and matt felt like he could do anything, especially going into this house. he could do this.

at least, that was what he thought until they turned the street corner and finally set their eyes on the house. matt’s face fell, blinking. he’d never seen a house like it, all one recurring theme and color. the entire house was navy blue, almost black, giving off an eerie energy that he couldn’t describe outright. attempting to peer through the windows, he was greeted with darkness, no light emanating from the inside. must’ve been black curtains, right? the architecture was modern, almost suburban, but it felt like an old, creeping monster that was waiting for anything to enter. to be honest, it looked more normal and average than a haunted attraction with creaking wood and screaming women sound effects blaring from the speakers, cobwebs from spirit halloween wisping around the bushes, and that was the scariest part. it was more ominous than anything.

“well, that’s fucking scary.” ryan deadpanned, crossing his arms and observing the house as their car crawled up the street. matt stifled a giggle. harry, who was driving, chewed his lip.

“gotta agree with you there, pal.” his brow was furrowed as he stared at the place, and matt could tell he felt wary too. they all did, even if carson was excitedly taking photos in the backseat. matt took in a deep breath, staring down the house, which only had one light dangling above the porch. he would be fine. they would all be fine. despite thinking this, matt ran his fingers over the inhaler in his pocket. he might need it.

they parked on the side of the road like the majority of people here, all getting out to feel crisp autumn air on their faces and the scent of fresh grass greeting their noses. the house was set up near a vast, empty field, lined with chain link fences and little blocks of concrete crumbling into the grass. this place was pretty much empty, all except for the house and the small groups of people standing outside. the boys gathered, chattering as they walked up the dark asphalt. the line outside wasn’t long, and matt frowned, wishing it would at least be a little longer so he could avoid his fate. even though it wasn’t really cold, he hugged his sweater closer around himself, mentally prepping for the worst. he felt eyes on him, and turned his head to see harry smiling.

“hey. you cold?” he asked, his eyebrows half raised in a questioning expression. harry’s concern just made matt’s face flush again, and he shook his head.

“no, no, i’m okay. a little nervous.” matt didn’t want to admit it, but the words just seemed to spill out, like when a kid accidentally blabs to a therapist. harry nods, exuding that ‘i’m strong and smart and i know we’ll be okay’ energy that he always has. it’s why matt feels safe, why it’s easier to calm down.

“hey, if you don’t want to do this, that’s fine by me. we can just hang out and let the others do it.” harry motions to jackson, ryan, and carson, who are all eagerly chattering with people in line. matt glances at them, then back at the house, staring him down like a person. even though haunted houses freak him out, he thinks back to what he told jackson. he needs to feel adrenaline. matt hasn’t been feeling like himself lately, always drained of energy and feeling emotionless. he knows what that means, and it scares the fuck out of him, scary enough to make him dive headfirst through a haunted attraction so he can feel something again. jesus, if that wasn’t the saddest statement ever, he didn’t know what was.

“no, i’ll be okay. i wanna see what’s inside. i’m curious.” matt attempts a smile, and it’s genuine, he thinks. harry just nods.

“yeah, i’m wondering what they have in store, too. the more i look at this place, the more it confuses me. like, is it just a regular suburban house they converted? or did they just build it? i can’t tell.” harry studies the building with intrigue, brow furrowed. matt catches his side profile again, and he can smell the familiar cologne lingering on harry’s shirt.

“just...weird.” he looks back at matt, and matt nods, trying to act like he wasn’t staring.

“it is weird. i’ve never seen anything like it.” he comments, adjusting his glasses and looking at the windows. they were so black, so empty, it seemed like the house was just a void on the inside. the thought made him shudder.

“me either. i hope carson takes good pictures.” harry commented. he turned his head to the others, where carson and ryan were chatting next to jackson, who looked lost in thought. matt snapped his fingers in front of jackson’s face, causing the boy to blink and look back at them in confusion.

“wake up, jackson. you’ve been in a coma for 2 years.” matt whispered in a sinister voice, and jackson smacked him away.

“don’t do that! you know how i think shit like that could be real.”

“that’s because it is.”  
“shut up.”

“gents? the line is moving.”

indeed, the line was moving, and with a sigh, matt realized they were up next. had they really been talking for so long? didn’t the house have to have a limit of how many people entered? matt just shook his head and linked hands with his friends, climbing up the porch steps and walking through the dark entrance, his heart thumping.

⌂

the door shuts behind them, and it’s pitch black. matt panics, a million thoughts rushing through his head, before the lights flicker back on, and everyone in the small room looks like they feel the same as him. for once in his life, matt isn’t overreacting, but it still doesn’t feel nice to be scared. in front of them is a door, the same color as the walls and floor and ceiling, with a number 1 carved into the wood. and, the most off-putting thing, a bright red graffiti painted against the door, spelling out, “ beware the cannibals .” matt knows it’s part of the attraction, but the way the red and blue contrast makes him feel sick. the door opens, untouched, and he sees two people in front of him glance at each other with grins on their faces. they enter first, the door creaking open to a large room with floral wallpaper and polished floors. it looks victorian, almost, clean and spacious with a large brick fireplace built into the wall. matt doesn’t remember seeing a chimney. 

there’s a oak dining table in the center of the room, a chandelier hanging above it and 7 chairs placed around it. a cake, iced with ‘ happy birthday ’ written on top, centered in the middle of the table. it seems fairly normal, but matt knows that some man with a fake chainsaw is definitely about to pop out of a hidden compartment, so he stays wary. the two men in front of him examine the table with interest, but matt hangs back with harry, jackson, carson, and ryan, staring around the room at the architecture. it would almost be pretty, if it wasn’t some spooky attraction. one of the men leans over the table, looking at the cake with lit candles.

“should i?” he asks his friend, and the friend nods. matt feels like something horrible is about to happen, but he just watches, chewing on his lip. the first man blows out the candles in one swift breath, and just as he goes to cheer, the chandelier starts to flicker. before anyone can react, the lights go out, and the room is pitch black like before. matt can’t see any forms or silhouettes, as if all the light had been sucked out of the world, and he feels his throat start to close. he can hear shuffling, muffled cursing, voices he recognizes as ryan and jackson.

“what the fuck man-”

“dude-”

“matt?” he can hear ryan’s voice and he flinches, feeling a hand slide into his own. matt clenches it hard, shuddering.

“ryan? what-” 

something crashes, loud and heavy, and matt feels like he could hear glass breaking as well. the sound breaks the silence like a fucking bomb, and he yells involuntarily in alarm, holding onto ryan’s arm in the dark. he can hear more swearing, more shuffling, before the lights finally come back on. blinking, adjusting his glasses, matt can see that the chandelier had fallen. it was in shards, pieces of broken glass littering the floor and table, which had been cracked in half due to the weight. splintered wood stuck out in odd, scary shapes, and matt imagined himself being impaled by one of those splinters. he took in a deep breath, shaky. matt had been so focused on the chandelier that he didn’t even notice the mannequins. his eyes trailed to the chairs, and a mannequin sat in each. the strange part was that they all looked familiar. it took matt a second to realize one of the mannequins was dressed like  _ him _ . he was walking forward, then, staring at the faceless mannequin, wearing  _ his  _ red sweater and  _ his  _ blue jeans and  _ his  _ pair of glasses. it even had his bracelet right, the one ryan had given him three years ago. 

“what…” he trailed off, staring at the other mannequins dressed like his friends and the two men. how could the people running this house have pulled this off? maybe there were cameras outside, analyzing the clothing so they could spook the patrons. but, there was no way they could’ve had the exact same clothes, the exact same fucking bracelet. matt felt sick, even if the sight wasn’t all that scary. carson and ryan appeared on either side of him, staring at their doppleganger mannequins. matt turns to look at ryan, who looks just as confused as him.

“dude…”

“i don’t know, man. i don’t know.”

matt looks to carson, as if he could have some answer, but the boy is just attempting to take a picture with his phone. he frowns, tapping the different camera settings, but his screen is black.  _ black like the room was a second ago, when matt felt like he heard things moving in the dark, dragging across wood. _

“camera isn’t working.” carson mumbled, shutting his phone off and shoving it into his pocket. matt felt the urge to check his phone too, curious to see if this house was fucking with them in more ways than one, but his action was interrupted by a sound to his right. everyone in the room turned to see two doors, one of them cracked open slightly. the door on the left was an exit, and the door on the right was leading to the next room, a number 2 carved into the wood. the group looked at each other, all effectively speechless for once, and walked to the door on the right, opening it wide.

the second room was somewhat smaller than the first, with a more modern setting. it looked like one of those party rooms you find at pizzerias or arcades, where all the kids gather to eat cake and open gifts. ‘ _ still keeping the birthday theme _ ,’ matt thought to himself, glancing at the confetti and party favors strewn across the two tables in the room. there was a small stage against the wall, with red velvet curtains drawn open to reveal three animatronics. it looked to be a cat, an eagle, and a bear, all with matted fur and dazed, far-off expressions. they weren’t turned on. matt felt carson recoil next to him, and he turned to see the boy looking somewhat disgusted.

“what’s up?” matt asked, lightly touching his arm. carson shook his head, frowning.

“animatronics. i hate them, dude.” he’s staring at the bear, specifically, chewing his lip and watching as if the animatronic will suddenly lunge at his throat. matt pats him again.

“it’s okay, it won’t hurt you. we’ll be out of this room soon.” matt sounds reassuring, but he sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. he looks back at the stage, at the cat. it’s staring at him. was it always staring at him? he can’t seem to remember.

“anyone getting five nights at freddy’s vibes?” harry asks, and that earns a few nods, a muffled laugh. matt is feeling almost as wary as carson, unsure of what could happen. he looks to ryan again, who’s thankfully still next to him. matt is scared he’ll leave, somehow.

the lights go out again, and this time, matt can’t find anyone to hold onto. he panics, reaching out on either side of him for carson or ryan, but he doesn’t feel or hear anything. it’s like he’s 10,000 feet deep, where the pressure of silence is so hard on his ears that he feels like his head might explode.  _ ryan was right there, he was  _ just  _ right there. _ matt feels like the quiet is too long, the silence too large, when it finally ends. it must’ve been only a few seconds but it feels like many minutes. the lights flicker back on, and he opens his eyes, which he doesn’t remember closing. something is standing in front of him. matt looks up, slow, facing the 7 foot tall cat animatronic that was previously on stage. it was staring right at him, only about 5 inches of space between them. he let out a noise of alarm, backing up a tad. he heard carson give a small shriek beside him, and he turned to see the bear animatronic standing right in front of the boy. glancing to his right, matt saw that the eagle had approached harry as well. carson stumbled backward, moving until he was clinging to matt’s arm. matt grabbed for his inhaler, but he didn’t need it just yet.

“what the fuck?” matt muttered, glancing at how sharp the cat’s claws were. he thought of them puncturing his skin if he got too close, so he backed up another step, grabbing onto his bracelet and slapping it against his wrist. matt turns back to ryan, who looks shaken up.

“did you walk away?” he asks, and ryan looks at him, confused again.

“what?”

“i...when it went dark, i reached for you, but you weren’t there.” matt feels like he sounds stupid saying it out loud, but he wants to know. ryan just shrugs.

“i didn’t move, dude.”

“ryan, don’t fuck with me.”

“why would i? i didn’t move, matt.” ryan looks genuine when he says it, and matt feels thankful, but he still doesn’t understand what happened. before he can apologize or think of anything to reply with, he hears a door creak open again. door number 3 had opened, drawn out and creaking, and matt feels like the animatronics will follow them when they leave. however, the large robot animals stay still, their eyes lingering on the boys as they walk away. door number 3 doesn’t lead into the third room, but instead a smaller room with a revolving door. a sign with large, looping letters reads, “one at a time.” there’s no way that more than one person could walk through at once, so everyone goes single file, listening to the swishing of the door against hardwood. matt goes first, though reluctant, and the air seems to change when he steps inside, alone.


	5. i've heard voices through the wall (i've seen figures in my bed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> matt flinches, his eyes widening as he watches the man stumble in place, coughing and rasping. the sounds were grotesque, almost on the verge of wet hacking, and matt feels his stomach drop in dread as he thinks about how the man might vomit. his fight or flight reflexes were beginning to kick in, eyes darting between the coughing man and the cracked door, fingers twitching at his sides. matt can’t stay in the room, he just can’t, feeling his chest grow tight and his lungs beginning to wheeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for vomit and cockroaches in this chapter!
> 
> im sorry for the long break between uploads!! i wanted to make this chapter as scary as possible n i also started irl school so i was a bit busy >:( i hope u enjoy tho!! :D

matt immediately regrets going first through the door, because as soon as it swishes closed, the sound stops. he turns back around, confused, and pushes on the wood, only for it to stay locked still. he frowns, pushing harder again, but it doesn’t budge. 

“guys?” he asks aloud, hoping to god that his friends aren’t messing with him, but he receives no response. they looked just as freaked out as matt was a few seconds ago, so he doubts they’d bother to pull a prank on him. must be the house fucking with him. he lets out a sigh, fingers brushing against the inhaler in his front pocket, before he turns around to face a small kitchen. the lighting is sickening, the windows shrouded in blackness, and he can hear the fluorescent buzz above him. he hates the sound. it reminds him of hospitals or grocery stores, places that feel too crowded, places he never wants to be.

“okay, matt.” he says aloud, filling the space with self talk to make up for the loneliness. “just a normal kitchen. the lights will probably go out again or some dude will come out with a fake knife, but you’ll be fine. nothing can hurt you.” he snaps his wristband as if to solidify the thought. there’s a tiny wooden table, a white but yellowed fridge, dirty countertops that are chipping with dents. the wood is stained, the linoleum underneath matt’s feet sticky, and he immediately feels wrong. the room is genuinely disgusting, and he wants to leave, walking over to the next door and attempting to open it. the knob doesn’t turn. he understands the house’s pattern now, turning around and coming back to the table. the person can’t move to the next room unless they trigger something to happen, which means that matt has to fuck around with this kitchen until he can leave. great.

matt wishes ryan was here with him, always good at puzzles that needed solving. he sighs, rounding the table to a stove, crusted with old foods. how did they get it to look like this? the house must have been constructed recently, so how did they manage to make the stains and crusted food look so old and weathered? everything in the room looked as if it had been there for 2 years at the least, on the bridge between decay. it reminded him of his mother’s old home. before she moved out, she lived in a beautiful place on a hill, overlooking trees with a large sliding-glass sunroom. however, after she left, the house began to crumble and decompose, and the last time matt had seen it, it made him sick. the ceiling in the garage had collapsed, insulation littering the dirty floor. old cans in the cabinets had exploded from many winters and summers, causing food to cake against the walls. matt remembered seeing the corpse of a rat, arms splayed out as if it were reaching for something. he shudders at the thought, how similar this place feels. he really wishes he wasn’t alone. . 

something dark and small moves in the corner of his eye. matt turns his head quickly, eyes darting to whatever had skittered in the corner. there was nothing there, just yellowed tiles that had been skidded from years of different shoes walking on them. matt could already feel his heart racing, though, his fingers lingering on his bracelet in case he needed to remind himself that he was okay. matt saw it again, catching it this time, and he yelled in alarm at the sight of a cockroach scuttling toward him. everyone that knows matt knows he hates cockroaches. ever since he was a kid, growing up in the humid suburbs of south carolina, he’s been terrified of the roaches and palmetto bugs that plague the area. he’d occasionally go into the bathroom in the middle of the night and find one there, sitting on the edge of the sink and almost glaring at him in spite. he usually had to wake his sister up to take care of it. ryan and jackson never really understood the extent of matt’s fear until they saw him react in person, running a good 10 feet away and cowering. it was obvious he was frightened of the creatures, and he thought the house had some kind of idea too. he never mentioned them, did he? how would the house have known?

either way, he backs up onto the other side of the room, going to cling to the wall for safety, when he sees two more lingering there. their antennae wave, many feet scuttling across the wallpaper. he screams again, trying to find a middle ground where none of them could touch him, eyes darting to the four walls of the room. he glances at the exit door, which still hasn’t opened. he could try to bust it, right? matt darts to the opposite wall, stepping around the many cockroaches that had populated the room, his breathing growing heavy as he mutters incoherencies to himself. he attempts to turn the knob, but it won’t budge, the door locked in place. he moves his shoulder into it, immediately wincing at the force. his arms were so skinny that he would definitely fracture something if he kept this up. a roach scurries by the door, extremely close to his arm, and matt screams yet again, backing away. there was no safe place to stand, no solace from his fear, and he fishes his inhaler out with fumbling hands, mumbling “fuck” over and over. just like a cliche in a horror film, his hand slips, and the inhaler tumbles onto the linoleum.   
“shit.” matt curses, leaning down quickly to snatch it up, when a roach crawls over to him, clambering onto his hand and beginning to crawl up his arm. the fear really sets in then, his stomach plunging as he stares at the disgusting vermin on his skin. matt screams something along the lines of “get off” and flaps his arm, the roach flopping onto the floor. he can hear it then, the familiar creaking sound of a door opening, and he turns on his heel, watching blue light spill into the room from the next. matt races to the door, pounding blood in his ears, almost like pounding footsteps of the roaches behind him, and he whips it open to run through, shutting it behind him.

he squeezes his eyes shut, catching his breath, his entire body trembling. the feeling of that roach crawling on him, antennae brushing against his arm, lingers on his skin, and he snaps his bracelet repeatedly in the hopes that it will go away. he wonders if everyone had the same room as him, dirty and filled with bugs. matt tries to recall what the house looked like from the outside, but he can’t seem to comprehend it. it didn’t look very big, but there’s different branching paths, different rooms that are strangely personal. how large was this place? how did they build it to look so average on the outside? he just wants it to be over already, cling to his friends until his heart rate lowers and he stops shaking, but he’s only in room 4. speaking of room 4, he hadn’t yet opened his eyes to see what was in store for him. taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, he slowly opens his eyes to a surprising yet foreboding sight. it was a navy blue, almost black room, the walls similar to that of the outside, with concrete flooring and one light in the center of the room. it was almost empty, except for one thing: a man, standing motionless in the center of the room with his hands by his sides. matt jolts, hand reaching for his pocket as if he was a sheriff and it was his gun. the man didn’t move, staring straight ahead at the wall, so still it looked like he wasn’t breathing. it looked like he had a sort of costume on, prosthetic pieces glued to his face which made it look distorted and wrong. if you took a quick glance at the man, you wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. but, upon close inspection, the chin seemed elongated, the eyes sunken in and the cheeks hollowed out. matt’s eyes study him before glancing over at the door to the next room, which was surprisingly open already, light spilling across the grey floor.

matt has a feeling that the man will jump at him if he walks past, remembering a similar scenario when he watched harry play outlast. the only difference was that outlast was a video game, and this was a real life scenario, in which matt had no friends to hold onto. he really doesn’t want to do this on his own, yearning for the familiarity of ryan or jackson or his other friends by his side, but he knows he can’t do anything about it. he takes in another deep breath, clinging to the wall behind him and inching downward. he wants to think this through, try to plan the best route of escape so he could just slip through the door and shut it before the man clung onto him. as he was trying to decipher how many steps it would take to run across the room, the man makes a strangled choking sound, hands clutching at his throat. matt flinches, his eyes widening as he watches the man stumble in place, coughing and rasping. the sounds were grotesque, almost on the verge of wet hacking, and matt feels his stomach drop in dread as he thinks about how the man might vomit. his fight or flight reflexes were beginning to kick in, eyes darting between the coughing man and the cracked door, fingers twitching at his sides. matt can’t stay in the room, he just  _ can’t _ , feeling his chest grow tight and his lungs beginning to wheeze. he can’t wait any longer, taking one last deep breath before he starts to sprint across the small room, chanting  _ come on _ over and over in his head. the door was coming closer, his sneakers pounding against the concrete and his breath growing quicker as he could still hear the coughing, and he thinks he has a pretty good chance when-

fingers, cold as death, grab onto matt’s arm and stop him in his tracks. matt screams, cowering, and he attempts to break free, pulling against the ice cold hand gripping onto his arm. it doesn’t budge though, the nails starting to dig into his skin, unrelenting.

“stop!” matt yelled in alarm, but the man couldn’t hear him over the hacking and retching, sounding like he was coughing up his own throat. matt was terrified, trembling and frozen, squeezing his eyes shut tight so he couldn’t see the act. he felt the nails starting to pierce his skin, blood peeking out in small droplets, and a voice was starting to cut through the choking.

“ _ look. look at me. _ ” it was raspy, cutting in and out between the hacking, and matt just turns his head away.

“no.”

“ _ look. at. me. _ ” 

“no, nono no, i can’t-” matt continues to tug away, his skin burning beneath the cold hand, sneakers scuffing against the dank ground. 

“ _ look. or they. bring your friends’ in. and eat them. right in front. of you. _ ” the man’s hoarse voice seems to crawl inside matt’s ear, piercing his heart and brain. the threat could’ve been empty, just something used to scare him, but with the way this house knew him so well and the man was actually causing bodily harm to him  _ right now _ , matt didn’t want to risk it. with reluctance, matt finally opens his eyes. he was admittedly confused at first, brow furrowed and mouth gaping, because the man facing matt looks exactly like him. there were some obvious flaws, but it was  _ him _ , blue eyes and slender nose and all. it was off, like someone had done a caricature of him, pointy features and exaggerated cheekbones. as matt was about to speak or try to wiggle away, the man began to vomit, spewing past his lips and onto the floor. matt lets out a scream, shying away and ripping free from the man’s grip. he can smell the puke, seeing part of it had splattered onto his shoe, and he felt bile beginning to climb his own throat. he begins to run again, tears pricking the corners of his eyes and babbling incoherent swears as he clambers to the next door. he can hear the man lumbering behind him, shouting  _ look  _ on repeat, but matt had already slammed the door shut and runs halfway into the next room. he would have continued running, staring at the door to see if the man would follow, but he feels something hard knock into his leg and he falls to the carpeted floor. 

matt doesn’t get up for a moment, catching his breath and gripping onto the soft carpet, closing his eyes to try and relax. he only sees the vomit, over and over again, how it crawled past the man’s lips like a fucking parasite. matt shudders, sitting up quickly and swallowing down the bile that was stuck in his throat, fingers threading in the carpet. it takes him a moment to finally gather his surroundings, where he was and what he had bumped into. the room was an exact copy of his bedroom. down to the dresser and the bedframe, his clothes scattered across the floor, the tiny polaroids of him and his friends hanging from the wall. matt’s eyes go to the nightstand, one side dented from when ryan had drunkenly fallen and gashed his chin on the wood. matt remembers how panicked he was that night amongst the intoxication, trembling and hazy as he wiped the blood from ryan’s face. how ryan’s hand held his steady, somehow calm even if he was injured. the dent is there, on this fake nightstand in this fake house full of fake people. matt runs his thumb over it in silence, wondering how any of this was possible. he wishes ryan was here like he was then, always soothing and smart in times of stress. matt can feel tears spilling over, his bottom lip trembling as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt, feeling utterly alone. he can almost forget everything, so enveloped in how scared and solitary he feels, but his thoughts are interrupted by the sliding of wood against wood from behind him. 

matt knows that sound. he turns, slowly, eyes welled up with tears and hands shaking until he’s facing his dresser. the top left drawer is open. this seems all too familiar, sending chills up matt’s spine and making the hairs on his neck stand tall. he feels paralyzed, knees curled up to his chest and staring open-mouthed in horror as he sees it. a head. the head. slithering out from his dresser drawer, the face drawn and expressionless, curtains of black hair spilling out over the wood. the air smells like a park bathroom, mildew and dirt hanging thick in the air. the creature from matt’s nightmares was here, in the flesh, staring at him with dark, beady eyes. 

matt snaps the bracelet against his wrist, once, twice, three times, but nothing changes. it’s real. the face stretches toward him, rising from the drawer on a long, rigid neck, crackling whenever it bends. matt is crying, his fingers gripping onto the carpet as if it will ground him somehow, watching the slow movements of the face. it’s moving toward him, the room utterly silent except for the occasional drops of water, and matt can’t even move away. he’s frozen just like the dream, eyes wide as they watch the head slow to a stop right next to his ear, water dripping onto his neck. he flinches every time it touches him, the feeling of the head’s hair itchy against his skin. matt can hear it breathing, rattling and hoarse, and the face is so close that he can hear the wet sound of it opening its mouth. matt closes his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath.

“ **_matthew_ ** .” matt winces at how the head says his name, throat scratchy. “ **_don’t pause. you can’t. they’ll all die. don’t let them die._ ** ” the words stick to matt’s skin like the heat of a warm day, but they’re cold, and they sting because he doesn’t know what they mean. he can hear the breathing grow distant, and he opens his eyes to see that the head is retreating back to it’s drawer. matt doesn’t stop to watch it disappear. he pushes himself up on trembling legs, stumbling and almost falling again as he pushes through the door and into cold, outside air. he falls onto his hands and knees again, crawling away as fast as he can on wet grass, and he gets at least 13 feet before he turns to look back at it. the night is silent, the moon hanging overhead, and the house stares back at him. he can feel his lungs starting to lose air, his chest heaving up and down with the effort of breathing, and the door opens again. 

  
it’s ryan.  ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me what ya thought about this chapter !! ily <33


	6. you know it's right outside your door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ryan is so used to matt’s consistent rambling, the hands gripping to his shirt and lanky limbs knocking against his own, that the silence of the house feels deafening. his hand lingers at the hem of his shirt, his fingers squeezing the fabric and rubbing it together, and he tries to ignore how scared he feels.

_ room 5. ryan is still shivering, his sneakers and socks soaked with muddy water, still feeling the sting of a hand grabbing at his ankle. he wants to stop and check to see if there’s a welt, but at this point, he doesn’t think his shaking limbs and adrenaline-pumped body will let him. he just wants to get out, to keep moving, to see if matt is waiting for him outside of the house. ryan is so used to matt’s consistent rambling, the hands gripping to his shirt and lanky limbs knocking against his own, that the silence of the house feels deafening. his hand lingers at the hem of his shirt, his fingers squeezing the fabric and rubbing it together, and he tries to ignore how scared he feels. looking up, he gets a strange feeling, reminiscent of the wind being knocked out of his chest. ryan wants to take a step back, to pause and analyze what he’s seeing, because it doesn’t make any fucking sense. ryan is a logical person, and everyone knows it. he’s the one that calms matt down whenever he’s having an episode, telling him that the man outside his window with a gun isn’t real and that he’s safe in his bed. ryan is the one that debates politics and always wins, leaving the other person sputtering for something to hold onto. he plans shit meticulously and is there for himself when the panic comes. however, he feels like he’s being challenged for the first time in his life by what he sees. the room he’s in is his old therapist’s office. he recognizes the large wooden desk, scuffs from where his shoes had scraped it. his eyes move to the extensive bookshelves of novels nobody was reading, the blinded window that only showed empty blackness, the famous hourglass his therapist used to time their sessions. and, speaking of his therapist, she was sitting at the desk in her chair, hands clasped and brown hair curling around her shoulders. doctor krathmore. ryan steps backward, pushing at the door and not looking away from the doctor, but it doesn’t budge. he should’ve known it would lock. krathmore moves forward, her glasses catching on the low light of the room. _

_ “please, sit down, ryan.” she says, motioning to the chair in front of her. ryan still can’t seem to process what is happening, staring ahead with his brow knit and his heart pounding. he hasn’t seen krathmore in two years. she was assigned to him when he began therapy, a little too late he might add, and he instantly didn’t like her. her nose always seemed upturned, her attitude professional, and ryan felt more closed off than ever when he was around her. he had to leave after three weeks, and he hadn’t gone back to a therapist since, nervous that it would be the same. matt had been pestering him to go back, and ryan would always say he was getting around to it, but he never did. he felt that rage come back, and he almost spoke with gritted teeth. _

_ “i’m not gonna fucking sit down.” he said, though there was hardly any force behind his words. krathmore gave him that  _ look _ , the one she always gave when ryan wasn’t willing to open up about something. she tapped the desk with a manicured nail. _

_ “sit down, or you can’t leave. you know how this works by now.” krathmore sounded threatening despite her calm exterior, and it was like ryan lost control of his legs, moving forward until he sat in the chair across from his old therapist. but, was it really? it looked like the spitting image of her, pencil skirt and thin lips and black framed glasses, her nails tapping the table like they did in the past. ryan remembered how unnerved and sick that sound made him, and he cringed, staring at her hand and trying to comprehend how any of this shit was real. _

_ “i haven’t seen you in quite a long time, ryan. i was wondering how you were doing.” she spoke, and ryan noticed how empty the room felt, void of sound. _

_ “but you haven’t, right? because you can’t be you. there’s no way a haunted attraction would call in my old fucking therapist.” ryan let his shoe rest against the desk like he used to, the urge to kick a hole through it nagging at the back of his brain. he watched krathmore cock her head, smiling at ryan like he was stupid. _

_ “well, i’m here, aren’t i? in a sense.” her nails tapped once more, loud. “i’m here for  _ you. _ i’ve been put here, just for you.” she motioned to the office around her, and the more ryan looked, the more he noticed how distorted it was. _

_ “here for what? i don’t need you anymore.” ryan crossed his arms, shifting in his seat. krathmore shook her head.  _

_ “oh, but you do. you haven’t gotten any better. i think you’ve gotten even worse.” she looked at him with pity, which only made ryan feel worse. “you’re all alone. nobody cares enough to help you, always drifting away into the background when you're at your worst. even matt thinks you’re a burden.” _

_ “what? how do you...where’s matt?” ryan asked, feeling like there was a pit in his stomach. he could feel the sweat on his palms, his mind already racing with all the possibilities. what did this house want? _

_ “matt doesn’t matter right now, ryan. it’s  _ you  _ i’m focused on.” krathmore’s eyes seemed more hollow the longer that ryan looked, and he swallowed the tightness in his throat. _

_ “but why? i just wanna leave.” his eyes dart to the door, still locked shut with no sign of opening. krathmore smiles again, empty. _

_ “i mean, you never really  _ leave  _ when you walk out that door, do you? everything still stays with you, following close behind. watching every step you take and studying the movements.” krathmore was looking somewhere else in the room, distant with glazed over eyes, and ryan can feel anxiety creeping up his spine. “you’ve always been hopeless, haven’t you, ryan? that makes things easier.” krathmore dug her nails into the desk, and ryan watched them cut into the wood, leaving marks behind. his eyes looked up at hers, but they were closed off and gone. she was done talking. _

_ “what?’ he asked, but he wasn’t answered, just the sound of a door clicking open in response. he gave krathmore one last look, chewing his lip, before standing up from his chair and hurriedly crossing the room to the cracked door. as he swung it open, feeling the cool breeze of outdoor air on his face, he was surprised to see- _

“matt?” ryan asks aloud, his eyes scanning the rumpled grass in front of him. matt is laying there on his elbows, staring up at ryan with utter horror in his eyes, tears trailing down his cheeks as his lip quivers. he wants to say something, shuffling in the dirt, looking around him but struggling to think of anything. ryan steps down from the porch steps, listening to the door close harshly behind him, and he flinches involuntarily, looking back to see nothing at all. for once, just nothing. turning back to his best friend, he watches matt try to speak again, shaking hand touching at his throat, and ryan can already tell what’s happening. the panic is blatant in matt’s eyes, giving ryan a pleading look as harsh wheezes start to come from his throat.

“matt?” ryan says his name again as he hurries through the grass and kneels beside his friend, surveying the situation like an emt. “matt, where’s your inhaler?” he fishes into matt’s pocket where it’s usually kept, and he finds empty space. ryan remembers matt bringing it with him, and for a second, he wonders where it could’ve gone. did the people in the house take it from him? he supposes it doesn’t matter right now, especially since matt is clawing at him like his last hope on earth. ryan shushes him, sneaking a hand into his pocket.

“here, matt, here, i got you-” ryan pulls out his extra, feeling the small weight in his hand. he always had it just in case matt lost his own, and it had come in handy a few times already. he brings it up to matt’s trembling lips, the man’s hands gripping tightly onto ryan’s arm, and he presses down. ryan always hates that wheezing, quivery breath matt takes when he inhales the medicine, shaking off the last remnants of panic, the urge for matt to be safe pressing at his brain. he does it once more, and matt looks up at him, eyes teary and wet.

“you’re okay. i got you.” ryan lets the words rumble from his chest, and matt inhales again, pushing the inhaler away as he covers his mouth with a shaky hand. it takes him a moment, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, before he finally speaks again.

“what...what in the  _ fuck  _ just happened in there?” he asks, pointing to the house. ryan looks back, still expecting something to come writhing out after them, but there’s nothing. ryan usually would soothe matt with an explanation, rub his shoulder and tell him that everything would be okay, but he couldn’t come up with anything. he turns to matt again, chewing his bottom lip.

“i don’t know.” he felt stupid, wanting to comfort matt in some way, but he didn’t know what else to say. matt didn’t mind, already rambling about what he’d seen.

“there...there was...that fucking head. the one from my nightmare. and it was in my bedroom, my  _ actual fucking bedroom _ , and-” matt was interrupted by the clicking of a knob, and both boys looked up in fear, expecting something dreadful to come crawling out from the house. instead, to their relief, it was harrison. his expression was unreadable, jaw set, but his eyes looked haunted, as if they’d seen something terrible.

“harry?” matt asked, and he stumbled, attempting to stand but falling back again on shaky legs. harrison stopped him, hurrying over to kneel by his side.

“hey.” his voice was shaking despite how calm he looked, looking at matt and ryan with an analyzing stare. “are you guys okay?” he asked, and matt shook his head, scrubbing at his face.

“no. how can you be? what the  _ fuck _ just fucking happened?!” matt was waving his hands around, panicked, and ryan put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles with his thumb.

“matt, we’re out, right? it’s okay.” ryan mumbles, but matt shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes again.

“we’re not fucking okay. i saw someone that looked exactly like  _ me _ . i saw the monster from the fucking nightmare i had last night, and i never told anyone about it. how could they…” he wanted to continue but he was crying now, knees curled up to his chest. harrison sighed, looking up at the house.

“i don’t know, man. i just wanna know if jackson and carson are okay.” he cracks his knuckles, staring impatiently at the house’s back door. ryan hadn’t even thought of that, looking at the house with worry in his eyes, hoping that nothing had gone wrong. about twenty seconds passed before it opens again, and jackson stumbles out, his legs shaking as he doubles over to catch his breath.

“jackson!” harry yells in alarm, running over to him and putting a hand on his back. jackson didn’t say anything, standing up and rubbing at his face as he glances and matt and ryan. it takes his brain a moment to process what he’s seeing, brow knit, before he spins around to face harry.

“where’s carson?” he asks, and harry shakes his head, mumbling, “i don’t know” as he motions to the house. jackson goes back up to the door, beating his fist against it, but it won’t budge. matt finally gets to his feet, clinging to ryan as they stumble over to their friends.

“jackson, don’t-”

“where is he?” jackson asks, and matt could see tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, something that always made his chest ache at the sight. harry grabs onto him, hands gripping his shoulders tightly, the older brother mode going into effect.

“jackson, listen to me.” harry shakes jackson when he doesn’t look his way, getting his attention. “carson is going to be fine. we’re all  _ fine _ .” jackson takes a deep breath, but he still hasn’t relaxed, jumpy and trembling.

“i’m waiting five minutes, that’s it. if i wait any longer, i’m-” before jackson can finish his words, they all hear the door open again, and every head turns to see carson step out. his face is pale, eyes unfocused and dark, and he doesn’t look at any of them when he steps out. jackson approaches him, stopping in his tracks when he sees the boy’s arm bleeding.

“carson...oh my god, what happened?” he asked, but carson didn’t say anything, walking forward a few feet before collapsing on his knees to wretch onto the grass. matt groaned, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut as he walked to another corner of the yard. jackson and harry walked over to rub carson’s back as he vomited, shushing him and telling him everything was okay, and ryan felt like he was standing in the midst of everything, his chest growing tight. was this mass hysteria? were they all hallucinating what they’d seen? he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath. he needed to take charge.

“everybody relax for a second.” he announces, attempting to keep his voice steady. matt peers over at carson, who had stopped coughing and was now sitting down in the grass, shivering. ryan motions for matt to join him, and matt does so, poking at ryan’s palm with his fingers. ryan lets matt’s hand slip into his own and he squeezes tightly, feeling the rush of confidence start to come back to him.

“harry, jackson, help carson up and come over here.” ryan orders, and they do so, hoisting carson up by the arms and bringing him over. carson looks more coherent now, his face regaining color and his eyes looking nervously around at his friends. ryan clears his throat, thinking.

“so...what did we all see?” he asks, and he feels like a kindergartener teacher gathering his students around for a morbid show-and-tell. matt goes first, wetting his lips, which had already grown chapped.

“i saw...roaches...i saw someone that looked exactly like me, vomiting...and i saw a head. the one from my nightmare.” he bit his nails, looking up at harrison. “what did you see, harry?”

“don’t wanna talk about it.” he mumbled out, staring at his feet. matt frowned.

“harry-”

“i said i don’t wanna talk about it!” he seems surprised by his own outburst, looking away as he took a deep breath. “i just can’t.”

“that’s fair.” ryan nods to him. “jackson?” jackson shivers, recalling what he’d seen.

“spiders. a whole room of ‘em.” he turns to carson, who shakes his head, eyes welling up with tears. jackson grabs at his arm, examining the bleeding.

“then how did this happen?” he points to the wound and carson looks away from it, growing pale again.

“they stuck a needle in my arm. and then i...i saw…” carson shook his head again and the group understood, turning to ryan next. ryan sighs.

“i saw my old therapist, as normal as that sounds.” he admits, and matt snorts.

“wish i had that.” ryan thinks,  _ no you don’t _ , but he doesn’t say it aloud. “so...we all saw different things?” matt asks, shuffling in place.

“i guess so. but how did they do it?” ryan asks, but everyone looks just as clueless as he feels.

“do you think they put some kind of hallucination drug in the air or something and we all tripped? i heard about something like that in modesto once.” jackson suggests, but matt looks at him like he’s stupid.

“that’s not legal, dipshit.” matt argues.

“neither is causing bodily harm unless you sign a waiver. and look at carson! he’s bleeding!” jackson motions to his brother, who is staring away from his wound. ryan shrugs.

“i mean...we didn’t see any workers, did we? and there was no big sign advertising the place. i don’t think anyone knows it exists.” he says, motioning to the house.

“how did annabel know?” carson asks, but harrison interrupts the discussion.

“check reddit for all i care. i just want to get out of here.” he states, and looking around at all his friends, they seem to agree that leaving is the best option. it’s quiet between them all as they walk around the side of the house and back onto the street, the sky still dark and the clouds hanging high above them. ryan glances up, swearing it was supposed to be a crescent moon tonight, but he saw nothing, just empty blackness. he shudders, looking back at the empty street, where the long line of people from earlier has dissipated. ryan puts it out of his mind as they walk to the car, thankful that he’s finally out. he watches harry lean toward jackson as they’re walking, and he catches the words.

“you didn’t see a movie theater?” harry asks, his voice urgent. “not at all?”

“nope. i swear.” jackson answers, and harry looks almost disappointed, like he’s lost all hope for an explanation.

⌂

the ride home is quiet, the streets practically bare, and ryan hates how empty everything feels. the clock in the car had stopped working, but he assumed it must have been late with the lack of people around. however, it does feel strange being in a place as popular as la with no people walking the streets or driving by in their cars. it feels like there’s no sound either, as dead quiet as the therapist’s office, and ryan stares back at his hands to put it out of his mind. when they finally arrive at the tucker brothers’ house, ryan starts to feel the weight of drowsiness on his shoulders, yawning and suppressing it with the back of his hand. he’ll ask matt if he wants to stay over tonight, too nervous to be alone. they all exit the car on somewhat shaky legs, the fear mostly gone, and they trudge up the drive to the front door. harrison is fumbling with the keys, attempting to find the right one in the dark, when ryan sees it. his eyes linger on the house number, which shows a dark number 6, instead of the usual 251. his breath catches in his chest as he turns to matt, who looks at him with wide eyes. he thinks back to what annabel had said, six rooms scarier than the last, and it had never occurred to him that the house only had 5. ryan grabs onto harrison’s arm, and harrison is about to ask him what’s wrong, when he sees it too. 

they’re still stuck inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAA i hope u enjoy!!!


	7. and i won't get enough until my legs are broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as he walked down the hall, the darkness making it seem as if it kept stretching on, he noticed it was reminiscent of those hallways in movie theaters that lead to the screen, orange leds embedded in the floor. harrison remembered how it felt when he was a kid, how the hallways looked like voids of ether that he was afraid to fall inside of. however, he always kept walking, even when he would trip over a stray candy wrapper or pair of 3d glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEEYYYOOOOO CHAPTER 7 BABY i love y'all so much i hope u enjoy!! tried to make this one extra scary >:)

_ harrison had a feeling this was coming. upon entering the fifth room, his hands trembling lightly from the previous fourth, he was surprised by the low lighting. his shoes scuffed against cheap, black carpeting, a long hallway stretching out before him, blue light spilling from somewhere ahead. harrison took a moment, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand over his face, basking in the unnatural silence of the house. it wasn’t relaxing, but the quiet was needed.  _

_ he could hear a strange sound, far off in the room ahead, warping and low. it reminded harrison of the sound matt had made when he was describing a nightmare he’d had, the one with the grey alien in his backyard, red light leaking onto his floor and noises echoing from outside his bedroom door. it was haunting and it popped into harrison’s head when he least expected, like  _ now  _ of all times. he let out a shuddering breath and straightened himself up, feeling his lungs rattle with every breath he took. it was only two more rooms, right? he could get through this. harrison could always get through anything. he pinched his thigh a little harshly before pushing off of the wall he was leaning against, opening his eyes and going to face the blue light. as he walked down the hall, the darkness making it seem as if it kept stretching on, he noticed it was reminiscent of those hallways in movie theaters that lead to the screen, orange leds embedded in the floor. harrison remembered how it felt when he was a kid, how the hallways looked like voids of ether that he was afraid to fall inside of. however, he always kept walking, even when he would trip over a stray candy wrapper or pair of 3d glasses. harrison continued until the hallway turned left and opened into a much wider room, and lo and behold, it  _ was _ a movie theater. the screen stretched from floor to ceiling, the source of the cerulean light that danced across the ground and made harrison’s skin looked blue. however, the theater was quite small, with only a few rows of seats lining the room, and harrison could hardly see anything from the lack of light. his eyes looked ahead to the other side of the room where the next door glowed, shut tightly but practically glowing. harrison started to stride for it, his shoes sticking unpleasantly to the dark carpeting, which had gotten grungier the more he stared at it. the screen was blaring with shades of blue, the cooing echoing inside his ears like a curse, and harrison felt himself jolt when a thin hand grasped at his arm. _

_ “shit.” harrison mumbled, looking to his left to see what had gripped him. he was utterly confused and a little disturbed to see jackson and carson sitting side by side, an empty chair in between them. harrison was confused as to why they were  _ here _ , in  _ this  _ room, considering they had walked in behind him. something was wrong. harrison’s eyes flicked in between the both of them, studying their features and squinting as he tried to figure out what was going on. _

_ “sit.” jackson ordered, but his voice was raspy and broken, off, like someone was trying to do an impersonation of him. harrison needed answers, so he just nodded slowly and sat down in between his brothers, the blue light of the screen almost blinding. he looked at jackson’s hand, and he could have sworn the skin was peeling when he hid it away. harrison looked to carson next, grasping for an explanation as to why his brothers were here and acting so strange like they were not themselves, but carson was just smiling at him. it wasn’t like carson’s smile, filled with joy and love, but instead an eviler one, like he was just opening his mouth and baring teeth. harrison couldn’t look at him either, so he just looked at his sneakers, coated in dark water. when had that happened?  _

_ “how did you guys get ahead of me?” harrison asked, brow furrowed in confusion. “you were behind me, i remember. unless this house leads to different rooms or something, but…” harrison trailed off, trying to think of how big the house looked from the outside. how could the theater fit here? _

_ “that doesn’t matter, harrison. what matters is that you’re here. with us.” jackson said, his throat sounding like it was being put against a cheese grater. harrison cringed. _

_ “jackson, what’s wrong with your voice?” harrison turned to look at him, and it felt like the room was getting darker despite the screen growing brighter. jackson looked sickly, his skin pale and dark circles lingering under his eyes. his cheeks looked hollowed out and prominent like he’d been starved. harrison had only been apart from his brothers for ten minutes at the least: how had this happened? unless...no. there was no way. _

_ “harrison, do you know where you are?” carson asked, and harrison turned to him, and it was all starting to click. carson hadn’t called him by his full name in years. harrison looked around at the room, and he could feel the anxiety building in the pit of his stomach, clawing at him from the inside. _

_ “yeah, the no-end house. where else?” he looked to jackson again, who was smiling too, teeth scraping at his chapped lower lip and drawing blood. “look, i don’t know what’s going on with you two or this whole fucking place, but i-” _

_ “harrison. think harder.” jackson placed a hand on the back of harrison’s head, and he could feel nails digging into his skull. carson placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping it harshly. jackson urged him to look at the screen, and before harry could push him away or ask him what he was doing, he finally knew. the screen wasn’t just portraying those blue lights; it was a reel of a memory he had from his childhood. it was his ninth birthday party, and they were watching star wars, which was being replayed in the theater close to his town. jackson was tugging on his shirt and leading him into the theater, tripping over themselves as they raced to the back row of seats. harrison’s parents lingered behind, holding carson’s hands as they lead him up the steps. it skipped ahead, halfway through the film, and it was harrison, alone. he was staring at the movie screen, a content smile on his face that slowly started to fade. soon enough, he was in tears, shaking and crying from some unknown thought. but, harrison knew exactly what his nine-year old self was thinking. it was the rapture. he felt like it was coming, like it was really  _ there _ and about to wipe him and his family out of existence. nobody knew what was wrong, why he was crying in the middle of a movie that he loved so much, but the memory had stuck with him for his entire life. _

_ “no, wait-” _

_ “you should keep watching, harrison. you’re supposed to be quiet during a movie.” jackson scolded. harrison wrestled out of their grip, tears rolling down his cheeks without his realization, turning around to look at them. they wouldn’t stop smiling. _

_ “you’re not my brothers. you’re not.” he held out a hand as if to defend himself, pointing at the two of them accusingly. it felt strange saying it out loud, and it felt even stranger to look at them and see his brothers and know it wasn’t actually them. harrison wondered if it was some sort of hallucination, some trick everyone was playing on him, or if this was real, how the hell it was actually happening. harrison expected them to stand and chase, but they sat glued to their seats, eyes wide as if the lids had been held open.  _

_ “come look, harrison. come look at the screen. you’re missing the movie, harrison.” their voices sounded almost robotic, and harrison felt sick, scrubbing at his face and turning around to leave them behind. he could hear them thrashing in their chairs as he walked away, but he just chewed his lower lip and stood tall, looking straight ahead. he knew that if he looked behind him, he wouldn’t like what he saw. _

_ “harrison? harrison, where are you going? the movie isn’t over! you can’t leave!” the voices were starting to get more violent, harsh and strident like the words were clawing out of their throats. harrison took in another shaky breath and just kept walking, the exit door now cracked open.  _

_ “don’t leave! please don’t leave! harrison!” the screams were getting louder and louder, but harrison didn’t look. it was jarring to know that they were here in this house, this house that was too small on the outside for this many rooms to fit on the inside, with winding hallways and reminders of the past. those people weren’t harrison’s brothers, no matter how much they looked alike, and that’s why harrison wasn’t scared of them. he kept his face straight and his stride straighter, the howls and cries reaching for him like hooked fingers. harrison wasn’t afraid because he couldn’t be afraid. he wasn’t allowed to be afraid. no, but the scariest thing to him was not the rapture, nor the tiny movie theater with the grubby floors, nor the copies of his siblings calling out for him in the dark. the scariest thing to harrison was that someone else could see inside his head. _

⌂

it was a fair suggestion to say that all hell broke loose. it took carson and jackson a second to catch on and actually read the number that now stood darkly on their front door, the curve of the number 6 like a never-ending spiral. carson turned around and immediately vomited again, coughing and hacking over the railing of their front porch and into the bushes. jackson looked at matt and ryan, who were just staring at the front door in horror, their brains still not catching onto the idea that they were still inside. hell, harrison hadn’t even caught on yet. he couldn’t look away, his face twisted in confusion at the sight. he could hear matt cursing,  _ dude oh my god what the fuck what the fuck where the fuck are we _ , and he could hear ryan attempting to corral the boys despite his own disbelief. in the midst of it all was carson crying in between breaks of retching, and matt was covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut from it all, and-

“harry?” jackson shook his shoulder, breaking him from his trance. harrison had been staring at the number for so long that his eyes had crossed, and he blinked away the stars in his vision as he looked back at jackson.

“what?” he asked, looking back at his brother. jackson’s face was pale from fear, but his eyes were still full of life, his brow twisted in worry. human, just like he’s supposed to be. harry feels relief despite everything else.

“you were zoned out.” jackson’s hands were trembling but he shoved them in his jeans pockets. “carson got sick again.” he walked over to the porch railing and placed a hand on carson’s back, and harrison sighed, thankful for how supportive jackson could be despite the adversity they were facing. and, to be quite honest, this situation was very adverse. harrison wondered how the group was even  _ attempting  _ to process this whole situation, but he put it away for the time being. his little brother needed help. harrison walked over to him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. carson was crying, his tears and residue of his spit painted on his face.

“carson. hey.” harrison straightened him, and despite the fact that they were the same height, carson seemed so small in that moment. he used the end of sleeve to wipe at carson’s face, and it felt like they were kids again, those early hours of the morning when harrison would have to take care of carson instead of their parents.

“don’t cry. it’s gonna be okay.” harrison scrubbed at his little brother’s face, and carson swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to quiet his sobs.

“how is it gonna be okay?” carson asked, rubbing at his own eyes now. “there’s no way it’s gonna be okay. we’re still...we’re…” he glanced back at the front door and his shoulders started to shake again. jackson hushed him, turning him away from the glaring number 6. 

“carson, if there was an entrance, there has to be an exit right? we’ll figure it out.” he rubbed at carson’s back and carson nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. none of them really did, but jackson had a point. there had to have been some way out. they saw people exiting the building when they were in line, pale and stumbling across the asphalt. yeah, they were shaken up, but they made it out alive.  _ made it out alive.  _ harrison didn’t like the sound of that. he glanced over to the empty space where matt and ryan had previously been standing and he looked over to the porch steps where the two boys sat. matt was curled up into a ball with his knees to his chest, hands on either side of his head and gripping at his hair. ryan was talking to him, stroking his spine in slow movements. as carson and jackson talked, harrison walked over gingerly, listening to their conversation.

“we’re gonna fucking die in here, ryan, we’re gonna die in this house and nobody is gonna find out that we’re here-” matt mumbled under his breath in between gasps, on the verge of needing his inhaler. ryan cocked his head, trying to soothe him, but he was visibly afraid too. however, he was much better at hiding it than matt.

“we’re not gonna die, matt.” ryan said softly, his voice a low rumble. matt shook his head, gripping his hair tighter, and ryan eased his hands away from his head.

“but we’re stuck in here with all of those...those  _ things _ , and we’re...this...how are we in la but we’re still inside of a house?!” matt sounded exasperated, finally revealing his face that was smeared with tear tracks. ryan chewed his lip.

“i don’t know.” he replied honestly, but matt didn’t seem to mind, too enveloped in his own panic. harrison approached them further, sitting down next to them. matt turned to look at him, scrubbing the tears off of his face. he pulled out ryan’s spare inhaler and took in a breath, looking down at his feet.

“jackson said that if there’s an entrance, there has to be an exit.” harrison said softly, and ryan nodded, fidgeting with his bracelet.

“wait...yeah. yeah, that’s right.” ryan agreed, turning to matt. “there has to be a way out. every time we went in one of the rooms, there were two doors. that means an exit  _ has  _ to exist.” he was obviously trying to get matt to lighten up, and matt  _ did _ look a little hopeful. he shoved his inhaler back in his pocket.

“that makes sense logically. but this place isn’t really logical, is it?” matt raised his hands in reference to their situation. 

“well, you mentioned something about doors…” jackson spoke up, and the boys turned to look at him. he was standing in front of their front door (was it really  _ theirs? _ ) with his arms crossed, examining it.

“yeah?” harry cocked his head.

“well, this door is number 6. annabel said there were 6 rooms. doesn’t that mean this could be the final door?” jackson motioned to it, his eyebrows raised. harrison paused before nodding, standing from the porch steps and walking over to the door.

“that makes sense to me. we’ll find out when we open it, i suppose.” matt and ryan looked at each other before standing up and following, with carson and jackson close behind. harrison glanced around at his friends, their faces tired and drawn, and he hoped to whatever god existed that this would be the exit door. he turned back around, taking a deep breath before closing his hand around the knob, turning it until it clicked and opening the door. they were greeted by a somewhat disappointing sight. it was still their house. not the outside of the no-end house, not another room, just the entryway to their home. the despondency was almost tangible between the friends, staring at their familiar surroundings in silence. matt looked back at the door’s number to see if anything had changed, but the number 6 was still there like it had been before. the group filed into the house and shut the door behind them, the quiet of the house overwhelming. even though the concept of an exit was still palpable, harrison couldn’t deny feeling put off that they were still stuck there, that getting out would require actual thinking and planning and deciphering where to go. his keys, which he hadn’t realized were clutched in his hand this entire time, had left little red marks on his skin, throbbing from the rise of blood. harrison set them down on the coffee table, the sound almost dreadfully loud.

“wait.” jackson stopped them and harrison looked over at him. “should we, like, check the rooms? there could be things sticking around.” 

“i think we should.” matt agreed, clutching his arms closer to himself. ryan and carson nodded in agreement, and harrison did as well. 

“i’ll take the kitchen with matt. jackson, carson, ryan, you check the bedrooms.” harrison was good at throwing out orders like he was in charge, and people had a habit of listening. whether that was because of his age or his characteristics as a leader, he didn’t know. matt nodded, moving over to him and tracing the outline of the inhaler in his pocket, looking up at him nervously. ryan motioned for jackson and carson to follow him, and carson grabbed his skateboard as a sort of makeshift weapon, holding it in front of him. ryan paused before grabbing it instead, and carson looked somewhat relieved. they retreated to the hallway and matt held onto harrison’s hand as they walked into the kitchen. thankfully, nobody was inside, empty as they’d previously left it. or, at least, empty like it was in the real world. harrison watched as matt’s shoulders visibly relaxed, grateful that there weren’t any creatures from his nightmares lurking around. his eyes went to the kitchen cabinets and back to harrison.

“do you think that...is the food here okay?” matt asked, and harrison shrugged, curious. he reached into the cabinet and grabbed a small bag of chips, opening them and setting them on the countertop. harrison grabbed a chip and took a bite, the familiar crunch against his teeth. however, he couldn’t taste anything. he looked to matt, who also took a chip, and it seemed he was having the same experience. it made sense that chips in a fake world tasted fake as well. harrison swallowed down the tasteless chip and turned to look at the kitchen counters, littered with items that seemed so personal and previously meaningless to him. a stack of cook’s illustrated that he’d been ordering for the past few months. some bananas, perfectly ripe, though no smell was wafting from them. a shot glass jackson had gotten in hawaii. normally, harrison wouldn’t have looked twice, but knowing this place could copy everything perfectly, including people, unnerved him. he looked up to the mirror, studying his reflection. he looked tired, dark circles visible from underneath his eyes, his hair askew. harrison raised a hand to fix it, but his reflection stayed perfectly still. harrison jumped, blinking, but he didn’t see anyone there. this wasn’t a mirror. it was a window. he should’ve known that. harrison leaned forward, looking outside on either side of the house, but all he saw was empty grass and the outdoor hose.

“what is it?” matt asked, and harrison turned to him, watching him nibble on another chip. harrison shook his head.

“it’s nothing. honestly think i’m tired.” he rubbed at his eyes, drowsiness burning in the corners of them like salt. matt nodded, rolling up the chip bag and sticking it back inside the cabinet. 

“i mean, the sun is starting to rise. we must’ve been in the house for hours. i mean, we still are.” matt stared down at his shoes, having to correct himself. it was a hard concept to rein in. harrison nodded, his eyes glancing back to the window where the sky was purpling like a bruise. as they stood in the acute silence of the kitchen, the boys had returned, shuffling in like prisoners. carson was lingering close to ryan, and matt didn’t blame him; ryan always made him feel safe too. 

“nothing. every room is empty.” jackson shrugged, frowning. “i guess we should be glad.” he drew circles into the countertop with his finger, making little figure eights. carson watched him.

“okay. next step.” harrison stated, thinking that if he acted more confident he might feel better. “finding the exit.”

“i think that’s pretty difficult for a next step.” ryan argued, shrugging his shoulders. harrison had to admit he was right.

“okay. so, what’s a step that’ll point us in the right direction for the exit?” harrison asked, looking around at the group. everyone was either staring at the floor or looking out the window, the quiet pressing in.

“well, annabel knew about the house, right?” carson piped up, his voice scratchy. “maybe she’s here. maybe she could help us.” he fidgeted with the edges of his hoodie, looking around at the group.

“even if she can’t, that gets us moving. i think we should do it.” matt agrees, and carson gives him the faintest of smiles. the others don’t have much more input so they nod in agreement, and harrison nods as if to finalize it.

“let’s go, then.” the friends shambled out of the kitchen, into the living room and out the front door to the warm breeze of the morning air. even if it felt nice against harrison’s skin, just breathing it in felt fake and artificial. they attempted to start the car, only for it to stall, much to harrison’s exasperation. the group agreed to go on foot, considering they might find help along the way, and they began the walk to the bar. carson was on his skateboard, drifting quietly between the boys and not straying too far, glancing at the light fog that had begun to settle around them. harrison looked up at the sky where the sun peeked out from the clouds, a pale yellow orb that barely provided enough light. ‘ _ fake fucking sun anyway _ ,’ harrison thought to himself. his eyes moved across his friends, studying how they walked and what they gazed at as they walked. matt looked shaky, only keeping his eyes on his shoes as he walked across the asphalt, making sure he didn’t step on any cracks. ryan bumped arms with him as he walked, looking over at him every now and then to make sure he was okay. jackson was watching carson to make sure he didn’t skate too far, wringing his hands. even if they were stuck in this mess, they weren’t alone in all of it. this whole situation was incomprehensible, but harrison had his two brothers and his two best friends by his side. he could protect them, keep them safe from everything in this house, do his best to be the brother and friend he was supposed to be. 

stand tall, back straight, and always keep walking, just like he was in room 5. just like he was a kid again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me ur thoughts goofballs! <3


	8. nope, never, not once, not even on occasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and finally, sitting on the edge of the well and letting her fingers skate across the water, was a beautiful woman with hair down to her back and a veil over her face. jackson felt like he recognized her from somewhere, the pointed nose and high cheekbones, like a face he’d seen in a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYYY the last filler chapter before something crazy happens!! hope u enjoy!! :D

_jackson could still feel the scrabbling, itchy feelings of spiders on his skin when he stepped into room 5, making sure the door was squeezed shut so nothing could get inside. he couldn’t explain the strange aversion to spiders he had, something akin to matt’s fear of cockroaches, a fear he’d had ever since he’d been a child. he could remember harrison making fun of him for cowering behind the couch, eyes trained on the daddy long-leg that was skittering across the hardwood floor. even thinking about it made him ill, scrubbing his hands over his bare arms to remove any lingering arachnids. however, as he looked down, there was nothing on his skin, no bugs clambering up his legs or over his shoes._

_he breathed a sigh of relief, pinching the bridge of his nose to quell the headache pressing at his brain. he knew there was only one or two rooms left but he already felt drained, his legs like jelly and hardly able to keep him standing. he just wanted to get back with his friends and brothers again, go home and have a few beers and laugh off the fear, tell this anecdote months later when he wasn’t scared out of his mind. yeah, he’d probably been through scarier, like the car crash he was in when he hydroplaned three years ago, but this was no doubt spooky. he couldn’t get the first room out of his mind, how the mannequin was wearing the exact same tommy bahama shirt he’d gotten as a collector’s item years ago. there had to be a reasonable explanation, but he didn’t feel like explaining shit right now. he had a room to brave through. turning around and looking up at his surroundings, he found stone walls and flooring, similar to that of an ancient castle, designs laid into the mortar. there was a balcony of sorts, closed off by large doors that reached up to the ceiling, the outside pitch black like it was on a tv set. centered in the middle of the room was a well of sorts, the water shallow enough that the bottom could be seen, emanating a celeste blue glow. and finally, sitting on the edge of the well and letting her fingers skate across the water, was a beautiful woman with hair down to her back and a veil over her face. jackson felt like he recognized her from somewhere, the pointed nose and high cheekbones, like a face he’d seen in a dream._

_she looked up as if she just noticed him there but she didn’t seem surprised, looking back down at the water, smooth like glass. jackson had a sudden visualization of the water turning to shards and cutting into the woman’s fingers and he felt ill._

_“hello.” her voice was as smooth as silk, the perfect type of inflection to read a children’s bedtime story. however, jackson did not feel that relaxed._

_“hey.” he greeted, shifting his weight on his other foot as he observed the situation. the house had a pattern of some enormous event happening before the next door decided to open, so he knew he’d just have to wait and see for whatever occurred. the woman seemed almost ethereal from the glow of the water, but jackson felt like something was off, like he shouldn’t trust her right away._

_“i haven’t seen someone like you for a long, long time. i hunger for human contact sometimes. don’t you?” she asked him, and jackson nodded slowly, going along with it._

_“yeah. everybody does, i think.” he scratched at his wrist, still feeling the weird sensation of something crawling on his skin. the woman nodded in reply, a smile on her face that only made jackson feel like she thought he was stupid._

_“not many people pass through here. too scared to make it to the end.” she cupped some water in her palm and let it sift through her fingers._

_“this place is pretty scary. you guys did a great job.” jackson complimented her, hoping they would go easier on him for the last scare. or, maybe this was just the “therapy room” to relax after getting your pants scared off. that didn’t seem realistic. she hummed a laugh, fake. there was another brief moment of silence before jackson spoke up again._

_“you said that not a lot of people come through here.” he mentioned, catching her attention. “have you seen a group of guys, maybe even a few of them? all super tall. kinda look like me.” the woman chewed her lip, looking away as she thought back._

_“i don’t think so. i’m sorry.” she didn’t sound apologetic at all, but jackson just nodded, feeling the string of worry go taut in his chest. where could they be?_

_“well, i’m sure they’ll be on the other side.” the words felt strange to jackson, as if the woman was talking about death, and jackson could feel his anxiety rising in his throat. he told himself to relax, swallowing down the tension, but he could still feel his hands sweating._

_“um... right…” he trailed off, eyes on the door as he waited somewhat impatiently for it to finally open. he just wanted to get out of here already._

_“the other side, like a reflection of a mirror. a pool. like my reflection here.” she paused. “do you think i’m beautiful, jackson?” she had turned to him then, looking curious from the question she’d asked. jackson thought it was a very odd thing to say, considering their situation, but honestly, things were really weird already. and, the more he thought about it, he didn’t remember telling her his name._

_“i...i mean...yeah! sure.” he didn’t know what else to say, wondering if it was a situation similar to kuchisake onna and he’d get sliced and diced if he spoke the wrong words. the woman smiled as if she was humbled, but jackson didn’t trust it, fidgeting with his rings._

_“even if i changed?” she asked again, and jackson had a bad feeling about this, watching her finally rise from her seat on the stone pool. she lifted her veil, her pale skin catching beautifully in the dim light._

_“well, i mean, i don’t really know you.” he mumbled, cursing himself for not giving out a lie. the woman faltered slightly but she didn’t frown, letting her veil fall to the floor. she let her nimble hands travel to the base of her scalp where the crown of her hair had started, nails digging into the flesh and beginning to pull down. jackson gasped without even meaning to, falling back a bit and staring up at her with a horrified expression._

_“but you do, jackson. i’m everything you want. everything you need.” the sound of the skin tearing, wet and unpleasant, filled the room as the woman peeled back her flesh, exposing the muscles underneath her face. blood was starting to pool and drip down her face, the removal of her eyelids causing her to stare wide-eyed and blankly at jackson._

_“i know your secret. i know that nobody has ever loved you before, and i can fix that. i’ll love you, jackson. you just have to let me.” her skin had gotten stuck over her teeth and she yanked harshly before it snapped, making jackson flinch. this had to be makeup, right? she was probably just pulling latex off of her face, her reason for being so calm as she did this, but a part of jackson felt like this wasn’t a joke or a scare. the way the chunks of skin slapped against the stone, forming a pile of gore, jackson felt like he was going to throw up._

_the sound of the door opening interrupted his rushing thoughts, cracking as light spilled across the stone floor, and he knew he had to make a break for it before something awful happened._

_“i love you, jackson.” the woman sounded like a broken record, her face completely bare of skin and her fingers working at her neck. jackson darted past her, almost skidding on the blood that was congealing in the cracks of the stone floor, the sound of her flesh falling echoing in his ears as he swung the door wide open. it slammed shut behind him without his effort, and as he doubled over and tried not to puke, he saw harrison coming over to help him. thank fuck._

⌂

jackson wasn’t sure how long the group had been walking down this stretch of suburban road, seemingly endless and piled up with ditched cars. it was almost like something out of the walking dead, but nothing looked damaged and beaten for parts. no engines steamed, no supplies littered the streets. jackson never thought in his entire life that he could walk along a street in la and not be hit by a car, and it felt odd to not hear the sounds of engines running. it looked normal, but a little off, just like the woman he’d seen. jackson felt sick thinking about her so he pushed the thoughts away as he continued walking, kicking a pebble in front of him. he kept his eyes trained on carson, who was cruising slowly on his skateboard at the front of the group, sometimes stopping to look at something he’d seen in the distance. jackson worried about him, how he’d vomited twice since they’d gotten here and he was still practically trembling, his foot wobbly as it pushed him forward. his eyes move to harrison, who’d gotten in front of him and pretty much taken the lead, striding like none of this was bothering him. jackson knew better. matt and ryan were walking side by side, not saying anything but speaking in their own little language. matt would look at him, fingers tapping at his wrist and leaning his head forward slightly, and ryan would nod, gripping his hand firmly and rubbing his thumb over matt’s fingers. it almost made jackson feel lonely, walking in the back of the group and observing it all like he wasn’t really there. but, yes, despite all the odds, he was here and this was real. he pinched his arm as if that would do anything.

he wanted to say something but he was afraid it would break some sort of magic spell, thinning the fog and unleashing all the monsters upon them. kind of like the mist, but not as cheap and fake as reality. however, as if carson was reading jackson’s mind, he spoke up as he skated along them.

“do you know how far it is?” he asked aloud, not aiming his question at anyone in particular. jackson felt like he was best suited to answer.

“if it’s a ten minute drive, that probably means...25 to 30 minutes walking? i think?” jackson had no idea if he was right or not, but it gave a time limit at least. carson nodded, chewing his lip. the group went quiet again, overwhelmingly quiet, and jackson stared down at his shoes, trying not to let the silence get to him. he wasn’t really paying attention to where he was walking for a few minutes until he felt something soft bump into his shoulder. he looked up to see matt offering him a bag of chips. 

“jack, you hungry?” he asked, and jackson shook his head, though he was thankful for the offer. 

“not really. thank you.” he replied, and matt nodded, twisting the bag between his hands back and forth. jackson watched him, how his hands shook.

“okey dokey. i’ve been thinking about how food is gonna work here, i guess. i mean...these are from the no-end house and i ate them.” he glanced down at the bag like he was still wary of what it was going to do to him. jackson looked at it cautiously.

“yeah...your body can still process it, i think.”

“i hope so. i just know we’ll all be stuck in here for a while, and...well...do you think we’ll-”

“no, no way!” jackson interrupted matt before his scary thoughts could go any further. “if the house wanted to starve us, there wouldn’t be any food, right? i think we’ll be okay.” jackson wasn’t sure if he believed that himself, but he wanted matt to feel okay. maybe he could trick himself into thinking that was true.

“hopefully…” matt trailed off, looking into the distant fog and thinking things over. the air felt so thick that jackson wasn’t sure if he was breathing right. matt started talking again.

“a bit of a morbid thought, but...do you ever think about how the inside of our bodies are pitch black? no light from the outside coming in? i’ve been thinking about it the whole time we’ve been in here. the house is kind of like a...a stomach. the windows are all dark. nobody can look outside. th-that’s really fucking scary right?” matt looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, twisting the bag so harshly that the chips had started to break.

“matt. you’re not breathing.” jackson stopped him in his tracks, grabbing his shoulders and making him face him completely.

“wh-what?” he paused, assessing himself. “oh. fuck. oops.” he ran a hand over his face, taking in a deep breath as he collected himself. the group stopped, turning to look at the pair of them, and ryan’s protective mode kicked in as he stepped around to matt’s other side.

“what’s wrong?” ryan asked, placing a hand on matt’s bicep. from where jackson was holding onto matt, he could feel him shaking, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t stopped since they’d wandered in the no-end house.

“this.” matt removed his hand from his face and motioned to their surroundings. “this whole place. i just...i’m really struggling to stay hopeful, here.” matt fumbled with his bracelet, snapping it against his wrist. jackson remembered asking about it one of the first times they hung out, having a study session that really just consisted of matt watching jackson play peggle on his computer. matt looked up at him, embarrassed like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” jackson added, glancing between his laptop and matt’s face. matt shrugged, looking back down at his hand.

“oh, it’s okay. i have ocd. i’ve had it since i was, like, fourteen or fifteen? my therapist told me to use a coping mechanism that would help me think, ‘hey, i have control over my brain and i can beat back those thoughts.’ so. this.” he snapped the gumband again. ever since then, jackson had kept a close eye on matt whenever he used it, taking it as an opportunity to distract matt from his thoughts.

“i get it.” jackson said, squeezing matt’s shoulder and breaking free from his thoughts. “but, we haven’t even gotten to annabel yet. there’s still a way out of this.” jackson found that the more he told matt this, the more he felt better about it himself, and he vowed to try and keep those positive thoughts in the back of his mind. or, he could at least try.

“i know. i’m just...i don’t have my meds. i’m freaked the fuck out.” matt frowned, fidgeting.

“we could stop at your house to try and get them once we finish at the bar.” harrison suggested, shrugging, and matt nodded.

“yeah. yeah, we could try that.” he tried to look hopeful, but he didn’t seem fully convinced. jackson was about to give him another positive affirmation when something caught his eye at the building in front of them, brick and shaped like a tall rectangle. it was a girl, dark black hair curling around her shoulders, holding a cigarette in her hand and attempting to flick the lighter on. he’d seen her before, he knew it.

“jackson, what-” harrison turned around and his eyes widened when he caught sight of the girl as well. the group stood awkwardly in the middle of the street, unsure if the woman was an enemy or a friend. her eyes, lidded and hazy, looked up at all of them, surveying their faces.

“any of you got a light?” she asked, shaking the lighter between her thumb and forefinger. nobody spoke for a moment before jackson stepped forward.

“i know you.” his voice seemed to echo in the empty street and he hated how it sounded, amplified as it bounced off of the cars. the girl tilted her head, hair falling in front of her face.  
“you were standing outside of the house. you were in line to get in.” jackson added, and it took her a moment to think before her face lit up and she recognized him.

“oh! you.” she stepped down from where she stood, approaching the group. everyone looked at her somewhat warily.

“you’re stuck in here too?” jackson asked, and the girl nodded, folding her arms over her chest. she only wore a small, lacy dress with a navy blue zip-up hoodie thrown over top, her knees covered in bruises and bandaids.

“yup. i came from la puente, got a text message on my phone that told me to visit this place. was real fuckin’ stupid of me.” she glanced around jackson at the other boys, blinking. “who are you guys, anyway?”

“i’m jackson.” jackson said, motioning to himself. “that’s carson, harry, ryan, and matt. we all came here in one group. this girl at a tiki bar told us about it.” he wondered if he should tell her where they were going, but he wasn’t certain just yet.

“we’re trying to get out of here.” carson piped up, his hands shoved in his pockets. “you can come with us if you want to.” carson, always friendly, always offering a helping hand. ryan glanced at him questionably.

“i mean...it’s probably best to stick together.” the girl said with a shrug. she turned back to jackson, flipping her hair back across her shoulder. 

“and i’m isabella, by the way. it’s nice to meet you.” she reached out a hand and jackson shook it, flinching at how cold her skin felt. he smiled up at her nonetheless. despite everything going on around them, the chilly fog and the empty roads and the memory of the skinless woman, it still felt like a step in the right direction meeting someone else that was stuck in here. more heads together meant the greater possibility that they could actually form a plan of some kind, a way to get out of this place. jackson held his hand out to carson, motioning for him to search his pockets, and he fished out a lighter, a black-eyed susan printed on. isabella touched the cigarette to her lips, keeping still as jackson flicked the lighter, watching the tiny flame burst upward. isabella took a drag, smoke flowing past her lips, and she thanked him by handing him the cigarette in turn.

fuck it, jackson thought as he inhaled the burn, what more do i have to lose?


	9. do you feel the chill clawing at the back of your neck?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> carson thinks back to every horror movie he’s ever seen, how people enter these life-changing situations and still manage to crack jokes or at least make pleasant conversations about the past when things were ‘normal,’ and he has no clue how they even had the mental fortitude to be normal. then again, those were movies with rich actors who’d never experienced something like that in their whole lives. but, hey, carson had a conversation starter if he ever made it out of this place. and, if anyone even believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOOOO THIS IS THE CHAPTER WHERE THINGS GET CRAZY I HOPE U ENJOY

_ carson was gonna fucking sue this place. he was cradling his arm and slumped down against the door, the wood cold against his back and seeping through his hoodie like a parasite, trying to calm his breathing. he had a feeling that if he looked at his arm again, he might actually throw up this time, so he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the door. it was this stupid machine built into the wall of room four, a blinking red light asking to “ _ pay the toll _ ,” sticking a syringe in carson’s forearm and drawing blood without him giving permission. blood made carson absolutely revolted, which wasn’t good whenever somebody accidentally cut open their finger while cooking or got scratched by the neighborhood cat. carson had to leave the room and focus on literally  _ anything _ else, rubbing the fabric of his shirt and trying not to think about how his entire body was filled to the brim with blood. awful. carson could be described as a sensitive person. he liked to help others and take care of people and run through life without care, but he was scared of pretty much everything, especially when he was a kid. speaking of getting scared, he remembered where he was once again, lost in thought for a few moments. he sighed, looking down at his knees curled up to his chest, his vision fuzzy from having his eyes closed for so long. they were so blurry, in fact, that when he saw a pair of dark brown timberland boots standing right in front of him, he thought he was hallucinating. carson jolted, rubbing at his eyes and blinking, but the shoes did not disappear. the boots are attached to scrawny, milky pale legs, clad in short shorts and ankle high socks. carson’s eyes trail up further to the pale yellow t-shirt, embroidered with the  _ ‘camp tigers’ _ logo, and his stomach plunges with dread. he knows who this is. carson doesn’t want to look up at his face. _

_ “look me in the eyes, cub!” the man speaks, his southern drawl apparent and lingering. carson hates how he says it, how he’s crumpled up on the floor when the man has the high ground. however, he’s scared of what he’ll do, so carson looks up, shaking. it’s his camp counselor from when he was nine, but it looks like the man hasn’t aged a day. it feels like the summer of 2008 all over again, when carson was short and blond and absolutely terrified by everything. spiders. planes. pizzeria animatronics. small spaces. dark rooms. the man in front of him felt like all of that fear personified, baring down on him with a wide smile. _

_ carson can’t remember his name. he’s got a blond buzzcut covered up by a ‘ _ camp tigers _ ’ cap, his eyes bright blue and rimmed red like he hasn’t slept in a while, and a huge, white-toothed grin. he smells like the woods, wet leaves and muddy water, and carson feels revolted. _

_ “there we are. shakin’ in your boots.” he pushed at carson’s shoulder lightly, but it felt like a freight train had slammed into him. the fear carson felt when he first met his camp counselor was tangent, remembering how hard he gripped harrison’s hand when he knew he had to go. harry and jackson had gone to another camp because they were a little older, leaving carson feeling utterly alone. he looked at his brother with pleading eyes, but harrison waved him off and let him go. he felt the counselor’s hand digging into his shoulder as he steered him toward the other kids. it was only two weeks, but it was no doubt one of the worst experiences he’d ever had as a kid. he couldn’t explain it, but that man made him feel extremely unsafe, and now they were standing together in the same room. _

_ “i haven’t seen you in so long, cub! you’ve hardly grown.” the counselor nudged him with his boot and carson shied away, flinching. the counselor just giggled and put his hands on his hips, staring down at carson like prey. carson felt entirely too small. _

_ “still as scared and whiny as ever, i think. you never grew up. always just the same fearful kid.” he kicked him that time, in the side of carson’s leg, and carson yelled out in alarm more than in pain. he glared up at the counselor as best as he could, but it really looked more like a grimace, the facade of bravery clear on carson’s face.  _

_ “do you remember that summer, carson?” he asked, and carson hated how his name sounded on that man’s lips. he sat up a little straighter, rubbing his leg. he didn’t have time to think about how this guy would’ve been way older by now, or how his camp counselor from 2008 was in the room in the same uniform he wore thirteen years ago. carson knew if he thought about it too hard he’d probably start crying, and the counselor would just use that to his advantage.  _

_ “i remember you were a f-fucking dickhead that mistreated kids.” carson swallowed down his fear as he trembled and tried to square up with his counselor. a part of him thought he should be lucky to be having this experience, bigger and stronger now than he was when he was nine. carson wasn’t exactly  _ strong _ , but he was six foot two and he could finally take out some of that childhood anger on this guy. but, another part of him thought,  _ ‘is the conflict really worth it’ _? the counselor continued to smile but carson could see it faltering, his eyes dead and empty. carson could only see his frightened reflection within them, no soul or shine visible in the man’s pupils. it made carson feel nauseous. _

_ “now, that’s not how you speak to your superiors.” the counselor said with fake enthusiasm, and with the swipe of a large and spindly hand, he had grabbed a fistful of carson’s hair and lifted him up off the ground. carson screamed, thrashing and clawing at the man’s arm, but he kept a vice grip. carson couldn’t keep from crying at the burn in his scalp, tears springing to his eyes and threatening to spill over. _

_ “that’s better.” he leaned forward, his blue eyes piercing carson like daggers. “you’re practically pissin’ yourself now, cub. tell me, ‘you scared?” he pulled harder and carson tried mumbling no, but his sobs made his voice shake to almost no recognition. his thoughts go to his brothers and his friends, and he wishes he felt safe again.  _

_ “you don’t have enough spirit! i can’t hear you! nobody can hear you!” he shook carson and carson cried harder, digging his nails into the counselor’s skin, trying to pull him off. the counselor didn’t budge. _

_ “i’m n-not-” _

_ “i don’t believe you.” the man sounded like an angry gym instructor trying to get his client to work harder, but in this case, he was practically pulling carson’s hair out. his eyes trailed over to carson’s arm and his free hand grabbed ahold of it, spider-like fingers cold against his skin. the same arm with blood dripping down from his wound. _

_ “how’d you get this little scratch?” he pressed down on the scar with his thumb before pressing his nail into the wound, watching the blood rise to the surface of his skin and pop out in small bubbles. _

_ “no, no, no, no-” _

_ “you don’t like blood, do you? i remember. you cut your knee open and you cried for hours. all alone, nobody to help you. nothing fills me with more joy than that.” he dug his nails in deeper, breaking the skin of carson’s arm, and it was all too much. carson squeezed his eyes shut and tried to drown the pain out, the blood, the sticky summer heat of the past and how alone and afraid he felt and- _

_ “i’m gonna ask you again. are you scared?” the counselor asked. _

_ “yes! yes, i’m scared!” carson yelled, and the nails and fingers finally let go of him, the pain in his scalp and arm subsiding. surprised he wasn’t being held up by his hair anymore, carson fell to the floor in a crumpled sort of heap, cradling his arm to his chest and keeping his eyes squeezed shut. he was shivering, curling into a ball and leaning up against the door so there was at least a few more inches of distance between him and the counselor. he couldn’t explain how the fear of his camp counselor was almost physical, so present he could practically touch it, and he wouldn’t be surprised if this house was somehow a time machine and he was nine years old again. the fear felt as a child is worse than fear as an adult, at least carson thought so, knowing that you’re not old enough to fight off monsters or run away from scary situations on your own. and being alone with those fears? carson felt more overwhelmed than he’d had in years. _

_ “cub. open your eyes.” the southern voice spoke again, softer this time. carson knew he’d probably just get hit again if he didn’t, so he mustered all of his courage and let his eyelids flutter back open. the counselor was crouched in front of him, arms on his knees and his head cocked. carson could feel his lip trembling, but he swallowed down his cries. _

_ “just let me go home.” carson said softly, though it was hardly a command. all carson wanted was to go back to his house with all of his friends, have a few beers to forget the night and pass out in his own warm bed. he missed his brothers and he missed matt and ryan, how comfortable and loved they made him feel. _

_ “oh, you can leave. i won’t stop you from doing that.” the counselor spoke, and as the words left his mouth, the door behind him opened to a crack. carson’s eyes widened at the sight. _

_ “go ahead and leave, carson. i’m not stopping you. but even if you leave this house, you still won’t be home.” carson didn’t understand why he was speaking so cryptically, but he supposed it didn’t matter. he wondered if it was a trick, that if he attempted to stand up and leave the room, the counselor would pull at his ankle and drag him back inside. carson shuddered at the thought. however, he could probably make a run for it if he needed to, and all he really wanted was to prove that he could be brave. carson stood on trembling legs, watching the counselor as he stumbled toward the door. _

_ “i’m not gonna stop coming after you.” the man called, his voice breaking the silence like a bullet. carson could envision his therapist standing over his bed as he slept, bearing down on him with that stupid fucking grin. carson wanted to say something, a taunt or a statement of confidence, but as he grasped for straws, he found nothing. chewing his bottom lip, he exited the house and went into the cool night air, the voices of his friends arguing not reaching his ears.  _

_ his arm still bleeds. _

⌂

they’ve been walking for twenty minutes. carson is surprised by how quiet the group has been, considering that matt and jackson are some of the most talkative people he knows, but the new reality they’re in has taken a toll. carson thinks back to every horror movie he’s ever seen, how people enter these life-changing situations and still manage to crack jokes or at least make pleasant conversations about the past when things were ‘normal,’ and he has no clue how they even had the mental fortitude to be normal. then again, those were movies with rich actors who’d never experienced something like that in their whole lives. but, hey, carson had a conversation starter if he ever made it out of this place. and, if anyone even  _ believed  _ him. he pushes off against the concrete again, coasting down the smooth pavement of the road. carson doesn’t know the name of it (he never bothered to learn street signs) but he recognizes that the bar will be coming up soon. his calf feels tired from pushing against the ground so much, and he can only imagine how everybody else’s legs feel. carson looks back at everyone, and they all look so worn down and beaten. he frowns.

he looks to harrison, who’s walking next to him, and he feels the need to speak so this street isn’t as awfully quiet.

“hey.” he says, and harrison looks up at him with a nod. carson isn’t sure what to talk about despite the one giant thing on his mind, so he just starts talking.

“do you remember camp tigers?” he asks, and harrison couldn’t help but giggle, the sound bubbling from his throat and chest. carson missed that sound.

“yes. that’s weirdly specific.” he’s amused, and carson feels bad for wanting to talk about his room five, knowing it’ll bring the mood down, so he stays vague.

“was just thinking about it, i guess. one of the counselors was really weird.” his brain flashes to when the counselor pulled his hair and reaches a hand up to massage at his scalp, still sore. at least he knows that part was real.

“i never got to meet your counselors, but i remember how you talked about that guy. he really must’ve been nuts, huh?” harrison asked, and carson nodded. ‘ _ more than you even know _ ,’ he thought. 

“absolutely. he just...he looked crazy.” carson frowned, thinking about how the man’s boot kicked against his leg. 

“like matt’s youth pastor.” ryan spoke up from the back of the group, and snickers came from the group, a sound that had become almost unknown as of late. 

“woah, woah, woah. not the youth pastor stories again.” matt protested, holding a hand out to stop ryan from continuing. ryan just giggled in response, thinking back to the countless jokes he’d made about matt’s past, all of which were (mostly) not true.

“at least you didn’t see  _ that  _ guy in any of your rooms. dusty.” jackson commented, and matt giggled.

“what about his youth pastor?” isabella asked.

“he was crazy.” ryan interjected, seeing an opportunity. “gnarly ass fingers. always standing behind matt and trying to scare him. he smelled like dead people.” matt stopped him, standing in front of him and waving his hands.

“no, no, ryan is making that up. i didn’t have a creepy youth pastor. he was just...normal. which is more weird than anything.”

“a normal youth pastor? i doubt that.” harrison spoke up, and the group dissolved into laughter again.

carson couldn't deny the warm feeling that resonated in his chest as he heard his brothers and friends chattering and laughing with each other. a small part in the back of his mind told him it was an inappropriate time, that they should be focusing on a way to get out of here instead of joking around, but thinking about it logically, the laughter was needed. if carson thought about the counselor and the animatronics and the syringe that went into his arm as a motivation for getting out of here, he probably would’ve gone insane. the group  _ needed  _ these small moments of conversation and joy. and, to be quite honest, carson’s brothers and friends are the only people he’d ever want to be stuck in a parallel dimension with. he glanced over at jackson and isabella, who were making pleasant conversation and laughing to themselves. isabella seemed like a good person so far. carson wondered if they would have become friends if this wouldn’t have happened. she caught his eye and smiled, and he smiled back, beaming. at least he still had the willpower to do that.

it took a few more minutes before they had reached the bar, walking up to it cautiously in the dark mist of the day. the sun was barely visible through the hanging clouds, almost like it hadn’t been there at all, instead just a vague glow of light. the bar, which had been lit up by a large neon sign of a parrot drinking a martini, looked desolate and empty on the outside. no cars were stacked outside, nobody was waiting around the door with a cigarette. it looked like nobody was inside either, but they had to be sure.

“this is it.” jackson stated, looking up at the rickety building. the silence of the street around them was deafening. carson grabbed at his skateboard, hugging it to his chest as he observed the large windows of the bar. he felt like he could see movement inside and he shuddered, envisioning the counselor smashing through the glass and chasing him. harrison glances at him.

“okay, so...if she’s in there…” matt trailed off, looking at ryan, who shrugged. nobody was really sure of what would come next. harrison chewed his lip.

“that means we have more help.” he finished, and matt nodded, though he didn’t look sure. harrison and jackson looked at him sideways, glancing at the front door, and matt sighed.

“you’re really making me go first?” he asked with exasperation.

“i mean, you talked to annabel. she knows you better.” ryan agreed, and matt sighed, feigning annoyance, but carson could see he really was anxious.

“i’ll go first with you.” carson offered, raising a hand. matt looked at him with utter relief, a warm smile on his face. he nods and they stand together, bracing themselves at the entrance. matt looks at carson, who nods reassuringly, and he sighs. if carson doesn’t feel brave, he can at least pretend. matt turns the knob and the door opens easily, creaking as they enter the bar. it’s quiet and dark, almost like it’s been covered in a layer of dust and age. the paintings carson took pictures of just a few hours ago look odd and out of place, almost like someone had attempted to copy them and failed. the bar is completely empty, chairs somewhat askew at their tables and booths empty of patrons. it feels wrong, a place that’s usually crowded being completely devoid of people, and carson is starting to feel nauseous. he almost didn’t notice her.

annabel stood behind the bar, polishing glasses like she had been doing the night before. she stared ahead like she was lost in thought, her actions second nature. carson looked at matt, who was staring at annabel nervously. he walked forward.

“hey.” he offered, waving his hand. annabel didn’t stir, the rag slipping into the glass and back out, scrubbing the sides. he paused before repeating himself, and annabel finally looked at him, her stare somewhat blank.

“oh. hi.” she replied, continuing her movements despite looking at the group, who had now all shuffled into the bar, observing the inside.

“how did you get stuck in here? we were hoping to see you.” he walks forward until he’s directly across from her, but carson hangs back a little, nervous. something feels wrong.

“the bar?”

“no. the no-end house.” matt motions around at the empty bar. “why didn’t you tell us this was going to happen? did you know?” he sounds a little angry, and carson understands it, wanting to put the blame on someone for this. who knew they’d be walking into some sort of perpetual hellscape?  
“oh, i knew. we all do.” she said quietly. matt didn’t actually expect her to answer with something like that, taken aback for a few seconds. carson had the urge to pull him away, paranoid that annabel would lunge for his throat. his hand twitched around his skateboard as he held it.

“wait...what?” matt asked, eyes flicking down to where annabel was still polishing the glass. it was squeaky clean by now, but she still did not yield. 

“we wanted you here. that’s why we spread our message.” she said it matter-of-factly. 

“what, is this a cult or some shit?” ryan asked from behind them, taking a step forward. carson could feel the tension rising, so thick it could be cut with a knife. annabel shook her head and smiled like he was an idiot.

“of course not.” she paused. “you really don’t know who i am, do you?” she cocked her head, eyes dancing over them all. when she glanced at carson, he felt it in his chest, a stabbing pain like a cold knife. there was no light in her eyes.

“you’re...you’re annabel. you’re a bartender. and you fucking lead us here.” matt pointed at her accusingly, stepping forward once more. the fear, the pain, everything matt had been dealing with ever since he got stuck in the no-end house had turned into anger. and honestly, carson doesn’t blame him. annabel continued to smile, like she was holding back a laugh. 

“it had purpose, y’know.” she set the glass and the rag down then, her hands worn as if she had been doing the same motion for hours.

“matt…” carson urged, hugging his skateboard tighter. matt didn’t turn around.

“what, then? why the fuck did you bring us here? do you have any idea how much this has fucked us up? what’s wrong with you?” matt took another step, and it felt like the room shifted, like a switch had flipped. in a movement so quick carson didn’t even see it coming, annabel’s hand shot out and closed around matt’s wrist, holding it tightly.

“hey, what the f-”

“i brought you here because i’m hungry.” she sounded almost feral, pulling him forward so he fell against the bar, his legs knocking out from underneath him. carson heard ryan shout “matt!” next to him, a flurry of footsteps, and carson felt like everything was happening too fast. annabel, oddly strong, slammed matt down against the bar using one hand, restraining his arm with the other. as she held him down, she looked like she was reaching for his head, her hand grabbing at his hair, and carson knew he had to do something. moving of his own accord, he lifted his skateboard up and bashed it against annabel’s arm, pushing her back significantly. matt, still startled, stumbled back into the group, glancing between carson and annabel and the skateboard. carson could hear his blood pumping in his ears, gulping and feeling all the sound fade from the room as annabel looked at him. she wasn’t badly hurt, but she was pissed off, glaring at him with daggers in her eyes.

“you ruined my meal.” she growled, and she lunged for carson, scrambling over the bar with her hands outstretched like talons. carson held his skateboard in front of his face to protect himself, cowering away, when the sound of thundering footsteps was heard.

“oh no you don’t, bitch!” a voice shouted, and a man ran into the room, a worn baseball bat in his hands. as annabel turned to see what was interrupting her attack, the man swung back and cracked her in the back of the skull, the crunch of bone heard. her blonde hair flew in front of her face as she tumbled, the force of the hit making her lose her balance. the man huffed, looking down at her with disgust, and carson stared at him in awe. he was on the smaller side, shorter than carson with cropped brown hair and a curved nose, clad in a baggy hoodie and a large black backpack. he looked up at carson, their eyes meeting, and carson felt different this time. this guy wasn’t like annabel at all: his eyes were filled with light, emotion. he was good, and carson felt it immediately.

“you guys gotta come with me. now.” he looked at annabel, who was twitching on the ground and attempting to rise, and back up at the group. everyone was in shock, motionless.

“and why should we trust you?” isabella asked, hugging her hoodie tighter around herself as she glanced down at annabel, shifting her feet away so her ankles wouldn’t be grabbed.

“because i just incapacitated the girl trying to eat you.” he motioned to her with the bat. the group looked at each other, wary.

“he has a point.” ryan added. the man hurried over to the back of the bar, motioning to a back door carson hadn’t noticed before. it looked like it had been kicked open, the lock hanging off of it. had this guy known they were in trouble and came to save them immediately?  _ weirdly selfless _ , carson thought.

“we have to go right now. those things feel pain, but their hunger is stronger. i have a place we can go if you guys will just come with me.” he pauses. “i’m justin, by the way. not that that matters.” carson swallowed hard, surveying his options. he could tell right off the bat that annabel wasn’t normal, and justin seemed alright. why would he bother to get annabel out of their way if he was a bad person? and, even if he didn’t have good intentions, six to one was a guaranteed win if they needed to fight. carson didn’t feel like sticking around long. he followed justin to the other side of the room, hopping over annabel’s body.

“carson! we don’t know this guy!” harrison protested. protective as always. carson looked at him, then back to justin, then back to annabel, who was writhing and gargling up blood.

“hey.” justin interrupted his thoughts, and carson looked at him, his dark brown eyes. “are you with me?” he held out a hand, small and calloused. carson didn’t have much time to think, he knew that. harrison and isabella didn’t trust him, but matt and ryan seemed to, and jackson would always listen to carson. justin had a weapon, some knowledge of safe spaces in the house. carson had a hunch that he could trust justin. he couldn’t explain it, but justin felt  _ right _ , like he would never hurt him. carson swallowed the lump in his throat before grabbing onto carson’s hand, the warmth spreading through his skin. he squeezed.

“i’m with you.” he nodded, and justin looked thankful, urging him on. carson looked back at his brothers and friends.

“come on!” he urged, and they finally followed him, walking quickly past annabel’s body, which had finally gone limp. carson turned back to justin, whose eyes met his once more before leading him through the back door, out into the fog of midday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUSTIN HAS ARRIVED!!! tell me what u thought and leave comments pls i like knowing what u guys think!! justin's chapter is next <33


	10. pray my heart adapts and yet it never does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “y’know, even though water never tastes like anything, this stuff is even worse.” matt raises the glass slightly, and his attempted joke doesn’t sit right. ryan can tell he still isn’t okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOOOO IM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPLOADING FOR A WHILE!! i was hyperfixated on rav and ted and epicsmp so much that i couldn't collect my thoughts for an update! BUT HERE I AM BABY :D i really hope you enjoy, this one is a little lengthy as an apology for so many short chapters :) its scary af too, hope u enjoy!

_ justin wished he brought a friend with him. he didn’t exactly  _ have  _ one to bring, but he could at least ask one of his crackpot neighbors’ kids, all gangly and pale. justin remembered having to visit one of their houses, how the basement smelled dank and wet, cracks in the cinderblock walls and a braided wool rug collecting dog hair. while his parents mingled with the adults upstairs, justin was left to be entertained by a kid a year older than him, blond hair cut close to his head and drenched in a hoodie he probably hadn’t changed out of in days. they played mario 64 together in silence, and justin was thankful when his parents finally called for him to go. even one of those weirdos would be better than this, being alone with nothing but his phone, knotted earbuds, and a lighter. he didn’t smoke cigarettes, never had in his life, so he wasn’t sure why he carried it around so much. it calmed him to light and extinguish it over and over, a rhythmic process. he hadn’t really expected the house to be this...normal. well, the rooms he ventured into obviously weren’t normal, practically filled with things that nightmares were made of, but the outside looked like just another normal house. if you walked past it, you probably wouldn’t have noticed it, square and small and outlined like a classic childrens’ drawing of a house. and if you stared a little too long, which justin had done when he stood outside, it made you feel sick to your stomach. it loomed, stark and consistent against the night sky. and honestly, justin didn’t know why he came. he’d been out all night, shuddering in the cold of his small town, a mere blip on a us map. thick forests and tall tick-filled grass surrounded him as he walked, stepping in the occasional puddle of snow that had melted from the rainfall. five minutes in, he was crying. ten more minutes go by, and he’s stone faced. his parents are used to him leaving, probably couldn’t care less that he was gone. _

_ he stopped at a gas station to buy a quick snack before plopping down inside of a mcdonalds, mainly for the warmth, looking at his phone. he saw a twitter thread detailing this house that had been spotted in his neighborhood, how it was a horror attraction that was “actually haunted” and was “genuinely scary,” and justin figured, why the fuck not? he needed a distraction from his current situation, knowing he wouldn’t come back home for a few days (or possibly ever), and a haunted house would probably scare some sense back into him. plus, he’d rather not sit in a mcdonalds to make his decision for six hours. so, he walked there. he went with a group through the first two rooms, then by himself through the next two, and now he was in the fifth. he couldn’t deny that the previous rooms had spooked him, but justin was so desensitized to everything, used to how it looked and sounded and felt. he’d seen too many horror movies, watched too many videos on liveleak, dealt with too many familiar situations. now, he wondered what the last few rooms would throw at him. he clung to the familiarity of the lighter in his pocket, the small and rectangular shape in his fist. the room looked average, white walls and lit by a single ceiling fixture in the center of the room, giving the environment a fluorescent ambience. justin thought of a hospital and shuddered. there was a door on the other end of the space, obviously the transition to the next room, and justin took a step forward to try and open it. he was stopped short by watching the knob begin to twist, left and right, slow and methodical like someone was trying to unlock it. _

_ justin stopped short, watching and wondering what was on the other end. some big guy in a jason mask? a cloaked, faceless figure? a little girl with pale makeup on and twin braids? he waited in the silence of the little room, the doorknob twisting a few more times before the combination clicked and the door cracked open. it began to swing, and about halfway open, justin felt his chest clench tightly at what he saw. it was his parents. his mom and dad stood together in the doorway, side by side and unmoving as if the door had opened itself, stock photo smiles on their faces. justin felt like he couldn’t breathe, the only real fear he had standing in front of him. how had they found him? had they been driving behind him all night, watching him walk to this place all on his own? justin opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn’t even sure of what to say. his parents spoke for him, just like they always do. _

_ “you did a very stupid thing, running away like that, justin.” his mother says it like he’s stupid, cocking her head, limp hair falling down her shoulder. _

_ “not responsible at all.” his father sounds like there’s unbridled rage behind his words, gritted teeth and malice on his tongue.  _

_ “what did you fucking expect me to do?” justin lashes back with his usually venom, sick of taking it for so long. at least, that’s what he tells himself before he would start crying and retreat to his bedroom, burying himself in a mattress with no sheets and trying to focus on how the rain sounds on his windowpane. he’d spent too many nights like that. _

_ “act like a good son and listen to what your parents tell you.” his father replies, and justin thinks, ‘it doesn’t seem fair that you weren’t good parents, either.’ he keeps telling himself to be brave, to not care, but the fact that his parents followed him here makes him feel sick to his stomach. _

_ “justin, we’re the best thing for you, but you couldn’t seem to see that.” his mother interjected, moving her hands as she talked. “but, you broke a rule. and that needs to be punished accordingly.” justin shook his head, taking a step back. _

_ “i’m not going anywhere with you.” he mumbles out, but his voice is shaking, and he prays they can’t hear it. his mother laughs, and justin hates the sound, how it reverberates through the small room. _

_ “oh, we’re not taking you anywhere. this was your choice.” she smiles deeply, and the door swings shut without anyone touching it. justin jumps at the loud noise, blinking at the sudden emptiness and silence around him. he waited, wondering if it was some kind of bad joke, but there was no door opening, no inviolable hands dragging him back home. justin wondered if he should even open the door, afraid his parents would still be outside waiting for him, but he couldn’t wait in this room forever. the other patrons of the horror attraction would have to pass through eventually, and he was holding up the line. as he stood and pondered about what he should do, still feeling the burn of anxiety on the back of his neck, he heard a strange crunching sound. _

_ it seemed to be coming from all four walls, even above him, and he turned to look for the source, finding nothing. it almost sounded like scraping metal, brakes with no padding, a cringe-inducing noise. justin was about to bolt for the door before the sound gave him a headache, when the walls started to move. and no, justin didn’t think he was exaggerating; the walls and ceiling were coming closer and closer toward him, moving surprisingly fast.  _

_ “shit, shit, shit-” justin chanted, sprinting to the other end of the room and grabbing ahold of the door. he twisted the knob, slipping in his hands from his sweaty palms, but it wouldn’t budge. his parents fucking locked him in. he attempted to ram his shoulder into it, but he knew he was too skinny and small to do any real damage, bruising his shoulder instead of knocking a door down. he looked around the room, feeling his throat start to close up at the idea that there was no way out. the walls and ceiling were closing in, and  _ fast. _ justin started to kick at the wooden door, the sound echoing around the small room, sounding like blows of thunder in his ears. the door started to splinter, little flecks of wood falling to the floor and getting stuck on his pants, but it still wouldn’t unlock, jammed shut.  _

_ “fuckin’ c’mon!” he yelled out, beating against it with his fists, the panic climbing up his chest. the reality is starting to set in now, turning around and staring at the walls grinding toward him, the screeching sound overwhelming. the room is less than half the size it was before already, the walls closing in on justin quickly. he continues to beat against the door, his fists starting to feel bruised, a cut forming across one of his knuckles. _

_ “i know you’re still there, just let me out!” justin exclaims, and he feels just like a kid again, the wash of anxiety and dread overwhelming him to the point of tears. he’s reminded of the dark, small space he knew as a child, crying out for help and hearing nothing in return, loneliness sitting in the pit of his stomach like a curse. he knows nobody is going to open that door. justin turns, his back to the wood marked with dents from his shoes, his fingers brushing against the jagged material. watching the wall stretch toward him, not in his head for once, justin just wanted to close his eyes and let go. this was going to kill him. they’d find his body days later, compressed to the point of his bones being flattened, an amalgamation of body parts. his parents would get off the hook like they always did, claiming it was justin’s fault for running away from home. justin supposed if there was no way out of this room, maybe it was for the better. he had no idea where to go, what to do, how to get away. there were no friends to hitch a ride from across state lines. he didn’t have a job, which meant no money, no bus fare. justin had spent so much time surviving that he never formed any future goals, no plan to become a ceo of some major tech company. all he was good at was editing, and it’s not like anyone would hire him. _

_ justin closed his eyes, squeezing them shut, tensing his body so all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and not the wall and ceiling speeding toward him. he slid down the door until he was on the ground, curled up in a ball, waiting for the final blow. the shrieking and wailing is getting louder and louder, enveloping justin in a cacophony of sound, clawing at his ears and up into his brain until- _

_ nothing. justin thinks he’s dead for a moment, the silence so sudden as if a balloon had been popped with a pin. he opens his eyes, unfolding himself from his position, and surprisingly, he’s still alive. he examines his hands, one of his fingers bleeding, still very much intact. the wall and ceiling had stopped just inches away from him, so close that he couldn’t stand up at full height if he tried. it was almost like a cube-shaped coffin, the thought making justin shudder. he feels somewhat silly, shaking off the jitters in his limbs, pressing his hands up against the ceiling. of course the room wasn’t going to kill him. this was a haunted attraction. its purpose was to scare people into thinking they were dying, until they weren’t, in which they’d tell their shaken up stories on the car ride home. “ _ i can’t believe that happened _ ,” they’d say, “ _ i’m surprised we didn’t have to sign a waiver! _ ” justin’s parents must have just been a coincidence, but justin can’t stop thinking about what they said, the strange cadence in their voices. as he tries to remember, he feels something shift behind him, and he can hear the sound of the door opening. unable to catch his balance, he tumbles backward out of the room, landing harshly on a patch of grass. the door slams shut, but nobody was there. _

⌂

they’re about thirteen yards from the bar, walking through twisting alleys filled with overflowing garbage cans and scratched up dumpsters, when justin realizes carson is still holding his hand. he didn’t even notice at first, ignorant to the warmth in his palm, more focused on getting away from annabel. he hit her  _ hard _ , but he knew there was a chance of her getting up and giving chase. he looks at carson, curious, and carson glances at him with an embarrassed expression on his face. his hand slips away, the warmth leaving with it. justin thinks now is a good time to start talking about what just happened, but he doesn’t stop walking, hands fidgeting as he shoves them back in his hoodie pocket. he’s interrupted by the skinny blond one, who looks like he’s about to freak out.

“okay...what happened back there?” his voice is shaking, and his hands are too, one of them holding onto the brunette next to him.

“that bartender was trying to eat you.” justin said matter-of-factly, scanning up and down the street before he crossed it, carson following his steps quickly.

“but...i just saw her a few hours ago. we went to that bar, it was full of people and she was acting normal and-”  
“that was before you went in the house, dude.” he turned around briefly. “what’re your names again?”

“i’m matt. this is ryan, harrison, jackson, and isabella.” he points around aimlessly, too focused on the concept that he almost died a few minutes ago. “and, if that’s true, how was annabel  _ here _ ? and why was she acting so bloodthirsty?” he looks at ryan, like he’ll somehow have an answer, but he looks crossed between dumbfounded and pissed off. justin can instantly see he’s a protective guy.

“because that wasn’t annabel.” justin hates having to explain it. he’s tried before with other people he’s come across, but they can never seem to fully grasp it, always confusing reality and fiction. 

“how? that’s impossible. that’s...that’s her.” matt fumbles.

“it’s possible.” harrison pipes up from behind them all, a pensive look on his face. justin doesn’t think he likes him that much, based upon first glance, but he has to see what happens. matt looks at harrison in confusion.

“don’t even, harry. if you wanna stay so fucking cryptic.”

“sorry that i don’t feel like talking about seeing my worst fear, matt. we don’t always have to overshare.”

“harry, don’t fight with him.” carson mumbles.

“he’s fighting with  _ me _ .”

“just, j-just don’t fight at all.”

“guys, we’re getting off topic.” jackson interrupts, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. his eyes move to justin, nodding his head. “you can continue.”

“thanks. i hate to break it to you guys, but...well, this is a copy of the real world, right? and that means that...not just landmarks and buildings and cars and shit get copied. it copies people too.”

the horror after justin’s words is tangent, shock and dismay passing through everyone’s mind. justin is so used to it that he’s almost numb, can see a clone and feel nothing. he hates that it’s come to this.

“what?” ryan asked in disbelief. “i mean, i shouldn’t be so shocked, considering it makes sense, but...what?” he looks at matt, who looks pretty close to his breaking point, his bottom lip trembling.

“so you’re telling me...a clone of a bartender tried to kill me because she wanted to eat me.” he blinks.

“i wish it wasn’t true, but that’s the case.” justin said with a shrug. they were coming upon a chainlink fence now, a large gash cut open with a pair of wire cutters so that people could pass through one at a time.

“we have to go through here. once we cross that field, i have a house we can set up camp in. we have to be fast. days are shorter here.” he looks around at all of them, wishing he’d given that drastic information when they weren’t on a time crunch. but, really, they were always on a time crunch here.

“i’ll explain everything else when we get there. please.” those words seem to do the trick, carson going first through the large hole. justin watches them file in, the way matt shakes and the blank expression on isabella's face, feeling pity. he trails behind them, moving up to the front of the group to lead the way. it seems as if nobody wants to talk now, the truth of what just happened settling amongst them. justin doesn’t blame them. he remembers how scared he was having to figure this out on his own. once they’ve passed through the fence, an open field awaits them, littered with patches of wildflowers and tall grass, wavering in the light breeze. they walk in tow, like a line of kids crossing the street, letting the sound of the wind fill the space.

when they finally arrive at justin’s hideout, a few houses down the street, it stands inconspicuous and small amongst the other cookie cutter homes. justin takes them through the back door, watching them all file in and locking it shut. he makes sure to check the front door as well, curtains drawn on all of the windows, never too careful. he walks back to the kitchen where the group has spaced out, as much as they can, at least. jackson is examining the wine rack (not justin’s, obviously), reading the labels. carson is sitting on the countertop with isabella, watching him flick his lighter on and off. matt stands with his arms crossed next to the window, peeking out of the curtain every now and then, ryan and harrison talking quietly at his side. they stop when justin walks in, and funnily enough, it feels like he’s a kid again, doing his presentation in front of class. when he puts it in  _ that  _ frame of mind, it’s not as scary. ironic. 

“well...guess i should clarify some stuff.” he says with a shrug, and matt raises his eyebrows.

“ya think?” he asks, and justin tries to look somewhat apologetic. 

“like i said, the house copies people. not everyone, but some. like...some people you’ll see are from different places, or completely made up. you might not even recognize them.” he tries to sound composed, but it’s hard. he watches harrison glance at isabella, and then everyone is looking at her.

“what?” she asks, brow furrowed. “do you...you don’t think i’m one of  _ them _ , do you?” she looks around at the group in irritation. everyone is a little on edge.

“she can’t be one.” jackson pipes up, trying to stop any conflict from arising. “i saw her outside of the house, waiting in line.” he shoots a look at harrison, who seems satisfied, nodding.

“yeah, the signs are usually obvious. they try to act normal, but there’s usually something off. the way they talk, how they move, and in annabel’s case...she didn’t even care about hiding. she must not have eaten in a while.” he thinks about how aggressive they get when they’re hungry and he shudders.

“wait, but what do you mean, like...hungry?” carson asks, fiddling with the lighter in his hands, turning it over and over again. “like, she wanted to…” he looks sick.

“it’s...it’s hard to explain.” justin isn’t sure how to word the next part, because when it first happened to him, he didn’t even know how to describe it. “they aren’t like regular cannibals that want to eat human flesh and stuff. they want something else.”

“she grabbed for my head.” matt mumbles, looking up. “what did she want with my head?” justin pauses, chewing the corner of his lip.

“they eat memories. i know it sounds like bullshit when i say it out loud, but really, look where we are.” he raises his hands in the air, motioning to the whole situation they’ve gotten themselves into. everyone looks like they’re processing the information, staring at the floor or at their hands.

“memories. okay.” matt blinks. “That’s…”

“it does indeed sound like bullshit.” ryan comments, and matt snorts, at least. “can you explain what that’s like?” 

“well, it’s...it happened to me a few times.” justin wishes he didn’t have to talk about this anymore, but he can’t just leave the group hanging. he also doesn’t want them to leave him by himself, but he’s not going to admit that.

“what was it like?” matt asks, and ryan nudges him, frowning. 

“no, it’s okay. it’s kind of like...you black out. like getting a surgery done. and when you wake up, that specific memory is gone.” the words are scarier than he means for them to be, and matt looks like he regrets asking. 

“that’s terrifying.” he mumbles.

“i know. that’s why it’s important that we stick together, and we communicate. this...this whole  _ thing _ ...it’s way bigger than any of us. it’s hard to think about because nobody has ever been in this kind of situation before. if anyone feels like they’re thinking too much, or they’re drifting, you  _ have  _ to tell someone. that’s how we stay safe. and...and i know it’s scary, but that fear is good. it helps you theorize, and plan, and you’re ready for whatever this shithole throws at you. that’s how we get through this.” he takes in a deep breath, glancing around at the group, and for once, he feels like a leader.

⌂

the air feels cold on his face, sinking into his clothes and seeping through his socks, planted on the wooden porch steps. justin had gone outside for some air, left alone with his thoughts, observing the moon-less sky and watching the purpled clouds roll past. it unsettles him, knowing it’s all fake, but he needs those moments of clarity, observing the nature around him. distant pine trees rustle in the wind, no birds inhabiting their branches. he feels like today was successful, the first in a long time. he finally had someone else occupying his space, other voices and other opinions instead of his own. the only people he ever came across were cannibals, mindless and emotionless and bare of all human things. you could look into their eyes and find nothing, no light shining back. he hoped the group would stay with him for more than a few days. harrison had made dinner earlier from what he could find, everyone eating in silence, the sound of forks clinking against plates echoing in the dining room. everyone roosted in the living room to sleep, using blankets and pillows they’d found lying around. they weren’t comfortable enough to sleep in different rooms yet. 

the sound of the sliding glass door opening makes justin flinch, turning around quickly. his shoulders drop in relief when he sees it’s just carson, blinking at him in earnest.

“sorry. i saw you were gone and i got nervous.” he shut the door and padded over to justin and sat down next to him on the step. justin could feel how warm he was when their arms brushed.

“just needed a breather.” he says with a nod. “couldn’t sleep?” he asks, and carson nods.

“nope. i don’t know how anyone can.” he fidgets with the hem of his sock, pulling at a loose string, wrapping it around his finger.

“you get used to it eventually.” justin said with a shrug. that sounded a lot more numb than he meant it to. there’s a period of silence between them, watching the grass shuffle in the breeze.

“y’know...you didn’t have to help us, but you did. i’m really thankful for that.” he turns to justin with a genuine smile on his face. justin can see how tired he is around the edges, pity pulling at his chest.

“oh, it’s no problem. you guys needed help. i wasn’t about to stand by and let that shit happen.”

“even if we’re strangers?” carson asks, and justin nods, though he doesn’t think of carson as a stranger anymore.

“mm hm.” justin didn’t really believe that helping others would help him in the future, considering that karma had never really worked for him, but he felt good about saving this group of people. carson doesn’t say anything else, just stares at the sky with his head cocked, observing the clouds. justin thinks about how the trust between them a few hours ago almost felt physical.

⌂

ryan can see justin and carson from where he stands at the kitchen window, watching them talk, the breeze ruffling their hair. matt stands close by him like he always does, especially lately, cradling a glass of water in his hands. it was kind of like they could both sense the other not being able to sleep, drawn to each other like magnets.

“they’re okay?” matt asks softly, trying not to wake up the others. ryan nods. carson says something with a short sort of laugh, and justin smiles back at him. he seems like a nice fit to the group they have going on.

“y’know, even though water never tastes like anything, this stuff is even worse.” matt raises the glass slightly, and his attempted joke doesn’t sit right. ryan can tell he still isn’t okay. 

“don’t worry, matt.” ryan puts a hand on his shoulder, thinks about how skinny and frail it feels under his palm, and a multitude of awful images come to mind, gnashing teeth and yelling and how annabel’s hand looked when it was reaching for his head. ryan feels protective again, like he wants to coat matt in bubble wrap so he doesn’t break.

“easy to say, not easy to do.” matt sniffs, the water in the glass trembling. “i’m trying to remind myself that it’s just the first day, that we can make it out of here, but it’s so...much. i’m really trying to hold it together, ryan.” he looks up with the saddest blue eyes that ryan has ever seen, and it feels like his heart is shattering.

“and you’re doing a good fuckin’ job, matthew.” he squeezes his friend’s shoulder lightly. “you could be handling this so much worse right now. i’m proud of you for doing so well.” ryan knows that matt thrives off of praise, that he needs others’ validation to feel alright. ryan’s validation always means the most.

“thanks, ry. you’re handling it even better than me. always are.” he chews his lip, staring at the ground, tiled white flooring that feels all too normal.

“hey. don’t put yourself down like that.” he steps in front of matt so they’re looking each other in the eye. “we’re doing this together, just like we always do.” matt is quiet for a second, crooked smile wavering, when he sets down his glass and stands. he wraps his arms tightly around ryan’s neck, burying his face in his shirt and holding onto him like he’s his last hope on earth. it brings tears to ryan’s eyes, and he wonders, when was the last time he got hugged? he hugs back, rubbing his hand up and down matt’s spine. his breathing is choppy and awkward from crying, but he’s quiet, the only sound in the house being jackson’s distant snoring. the hug feels long but it probably isn’t, standing in the dark, lonely space of the small kitchen. when matt eventually breaks away, he rubs at his red eyes, light reflected in them from the window.

“i should probably go back to bed.” he admits, and ryan nods, trying to push everything back down. 

“i’m going to the bathroom real quick. be back in a few.” ryan replies. they exchange smiles before heading in their separate directions. his socks pad gently across the now carpeted flooring of the hallway, which is entirely too dark for his liking. however, he doesn’t want to disturb whoever is sleeping in the living room, so he takes his steps cautiously. he slips into the first room he sees, turning the knob and shutting the door behind him as he walks in. when he turns back around, expecting to see a toilet, ryan is awfully surprised to see a large orb in the middle of an empty room. he’s stopped short in his tracks, blinking at the strange sight. half of him wants to walk out and act like he never saw it, and the other half feels like he should wake up everyone in the house and tell them they have to move. but a small part, which actually isn’t that small, feels like this is worth investigating. he squints, walking around the large orb, trying to decipher where it even came from. it’s an eggshell white, opaque so he can’t see if there’s anything inside. and, strangely enough, ryan feels like it’s giving off an aura he can’t quite describe. ryan has never been much for religion or otherworldly forces, which is why this feels so  _ odd  _ to him. he takes another few steps forward, and he touches it. the room is filled with a bright yellow glow, illuminating the space, and he’s so taken aback that he jumps. the walls are enveloped in shadow again, and almost out of fear, ryan puts his hand back where it was.

the orb glows again, hazy and mellow, and ryan can’t seem to find where the light is coming from. he doesn’t understand it, but for once, he doesn’t  _ feel _ like trying to understand it. he presses his other palm against the smooth exterior, studying how it feels, like it’s a heater radiating warmth. ryan has felt so, so cold for the past few days, that he doesn’t really mind how it warms his bones, closing his eyes and feeling like he’s in front of a fireplace on a hot sunny day. 

he doesn’t see the black hand clawing from the inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me what u thought, dorks!! i love u <3

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what u thought and if ur excited for what comes next!!


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